To the Hospital
A buried memory has been released. It is one of those memories that surfaces and there is no recollection why it was buried. But it comes to the top and it is as clear as the day it happened. So here I sit at the end of one of those memories. I hope I am able to write it clearly and quickly before it fades back below the surface from where it came.
It was December 1993. My wife, Cindy, was sick. Very sick. Her breathing was labored; she was listless, hot and sweaty. Her temperature was over 103 degrees. Having been through this several times before I entered into “Cindy needs to go to the hospital mode.” It was early afternoon. I called my parents and they came over to sit with the boys as I bundled Cindy up and drove the 30 minute drive to Monmouth Medical Center.
Cindy looked really ill. She wasn't able to neither drink nor keep any food down. Her labored breathing and high temperature indicated that she had pneumonia. These were the days before the great medications. Pneumocystis Carinii Pneumonia (PCP). It is a deadly pneumonia that had claimed many AIDS victims. This would be our 5th trip to the hospital with PCP. Poor Cindy, she never complained but I knew her chest ached and her eyes throbbed from here high temperatures. Monmouth always received her thoughtfully and gently. They would give her an IV with antibiotics and I would sit and wait wondering if this was going to be the time. Was this going to be the time that there would be no recovery? Would Cindy be called home? Claimed into the Great Cloud of Witnesses? Would release from the body that was betraying her and torturing her earthly soul finally be at hand?
In the hospital I gained an excellent education on how to wait. I have become a pro at waiting. I can sit for 6 hour stretches without ever getting up. I look back and I am grateful for the ability to wait. It has been a valuable skill and has probably kept me from going over the edge and becoming the nut I probably should be. I waited this day for about 14 hours. It was 3am in the morning and Cindy was finally stabilizing. She looked much better. Fast asleep and beautiful, always beautiful, I finally felt released to leave her side.
On the return trip home....my transmission blew. The planetary whateranotjunk blew up and apparently there was metal everywhere. This was not good. It was after 3 in the morning. I was just at the end of my own private suffering and apparently it was meant to continue. I called AAA and I waited 2 hours in subfreezing temperatures for a tow truck. It was another hour before I was able to hobble from where the tow truck dropped my car and me off into a Diner. I had generously and stupidly given the driver the last 7 dollars as a tip that I possessed. I cannot remember how I called my father for a ride. I think I begged for a phone call somewhere. I was cold, tired and strained from losing my vehicle. Luckily we had two vehicles....and a future stop by the Long Branch Police Department.
Part 2 Soon to follow