Before I start this story, I want to say that Kathy’s dad is just fine – he’s home – and at this rate is likely to outlive all of us.
But Thursday evening, we had to take him to the ER at All Saints when he suffered a spell involving his esophagus. It’s something that has happened before, and usually does not require a visit to the ER- but in this case the problem didn’t clear up on its own and he eventually realized that a trip to the ER was in order. So we brought him just before 10. . . and it was about 2 a.m. when I left (I had to be at work the following morning) and close to 4 a.m. before Kathy and her dad were able to leave. So it was a long night at the ER (nowadays is there any other kind?) which fortunately ended with the problem addressed and Kathy’s dad sent home (although we actually had him stay with us that night, or what was left of it, just to be safe.)
Anyway, there was nothing the least bit fun about any of this – but something happened not too long after midnight which really changed our perspective. Until then, it had been a remarkably slow, quiet night at the ER. But it was right around then that we began to hear a screaming baby from down the hall- and I mean screaming about as loudly and insistently as a baby can scream. It sure sounded like the baby was in some significant discomfort, but there was something in his or her crying which also suggested fear and frustration. And can you blame them? That baby was in a strange place, surrounded by strangers, doing strange things to it and having absolutely no idea why. And that baby reacted the only way it knew how: by crying and crying for more than an hour, and scarcely pausing for so much as a breath.
I typically have a very low toleration threshold for crying babies, but for some reason this particular baby – whom I never saw, only heard – pierced my heart, and I found myself feeling nothing but sympathy both for the baby and for whoever had brought it in. Kathy and her dad felt the same – and somehow it made us all realize that for whatever unpleasantness and inconvenience the three of us were experiencing, it didn’t hold a candle to what that baby and their family were experiencing. At least we knew what was wrong, we knew the likeliest course of action, and even when more aggressive measures became necessary, we still knew what was happening and why – something worth appreciating.
And then I saw something else that made me further appreciative of our own situation. About 1:30, I decided to head home, mindful of the fact that I had to get up the next morning to go to the radio station – but unbeknownst to Kathy, my plan was to run home, grab her glasses and contacts case, and rush them back to the hospital as a surprise to her. And it almost worked out well, except that as it turns out that instead of grabbing her regular glasses, I had grabbed her reading glasses, which were completely useless to her for driving. (Kathy firmly forbade me from coming back again; she said she would somehow manage with her contacts.) So it turned out to be a wasted trip.
Or was it? As I left the hospital the first time, I saw a relatively young man trying to walk across the parking lot but in obviously severe pain; he would take one painful step, stop, bend over, breathe deeply – take another painful step, stop, bend over, breathe deeply – and so on. Just as I was about to head over to him and offer some assistance, someone from the ER came running up with a wheelchair, having noticed his difficulty. He said something about having played softball or baseball earlier that day and sliding into second base, and the pain he experienced then had gotten progressively worse instead of better until he finally couldn’t stand it anymore. So there he was, desperately trying to get himself to the ER- all by himself. Under any other circumstances, there would have been nothing pitiful about this athletic-looking young man – but to see him on his own, in obvious agony, making that excruciating trip from his car to the ER all by himself was heartbreaking. And when I left the hospital for the final time, just before 2 a.m., this young man was sitting in the outer reception area, still all by himself, looking both alone and terribly lonely.
Which just underscored for me how blessed we are when someone is with us in life’s roughest moments- not to fix it or to make it go away (so seldom are we able to do that) but just so we are not alone. So it made me sincerely grateful that Kathy and I could be with her dad through this rough night. What a blessing for us as well as for him. Then I thought back to when Kathy had some major surgery in this same hospital some years ago and I realized in a new and deeper way how fortunate I was to have both Kathy’s dad and my dad with me in that waiting room the whole time, through those tense hours while she was in surgery. What better purpose could there be for us as human beings than to be with one another when it matters most?
pictured above: I snapped this photo of the ER just as I was leaving it.