Emergency
The next morning Steve and I ate breakfast in my hospital room and around 9 a.m. I was discharged. After a quick stop at the pharmacy for pain medication and Gas-X we headed home. The old familiar emotions that jarred me the day before began rumbling again and I was grateful we lived only twenty minutes from Fort Campbell.
We pulled into the garage, got out of the car, and Steve opened the door to the house. With each step I felt waves of grief rising, overriding my weariness. Seconds after I stepped inside new sobs escaped for the first time in 24 hours and I released them on Steve’s shoulder.
Not having the same connection to the pregnancy, Steve was somewhat perplexed by my outburst. The whole experience was surreal to him. It might have been more mutual if he had known about the pregnancy beforehand, but men react differently.
Once the waterworks subsided I led Steve over to the end table in our living room and showed him the sonogram photo. With tears in his eyes he said, “It’s very sad.” At that point the loss became a little more tangible. However, he would never understand my trauma.
That night I developed a fever of 101-F along with severe pain in my abdomen. Ibuprofen didn’t break the fever and it rose to 101.7-F so we took off to the ER. This time I was really glad that Fort Campbell was only twenty minutes away.
After waiting a couple hours I was finally seen by a doctor. He asked several questions, looked at my medications, and glared at me when he saw the OB/GYN had prescribed Tylox for pain. With a strange blend of astonishment and anger he announced, “This is for end stage cancer patients!” I was so bewildered by his remark that I just stared back at him. I wasn’t sure if he was angry with me for not taking it (I had chosen not to because I didn’t want liver damage) or if he was floored that the doctor had prescribed such a potent drug. Whatever the case, this doc had a lousy bedside manner.
Once the happy doctor left the room Steve walked me over to the bathroom. As soon as I set foot inside I dropped to the floor. I’ll never know what caused the blackout but I was glad Steve was there to catch me. The last thing I needed was injury. Again I sensed God’s protection and provision.
We returned home around 1 a.m. and I managed to sleep through the night. Steve had been given a four-day pass from school at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, so he was able to stay for only three more days. During those days he made meals, bought take out, and monitored me to make sure I didn’t have another fever. Then he departed, reluctantly, on Wednesday, April 25, 2001.
So there I was, left with unresolved grief from a miscarriage and the unrelenting reality of lupus and hair loss. I was teetering between caring for myself and slipping into debilitating fatigue. Soon I would be in for another road trip.
THE JOURNEY CONTINUES:
Stay connected for more. Jehovah Jireh keeps on providing. The mysteries and complexities of our lives might never be clear in our time, but one thing is certain: God’s ways and thoughts are higher than ours (Isaiah 55:8-9); and, His plans for our future are laced with goodness and hope (Jeremiah 29:11).
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Life Happens – Jesus Answers is a weekly column addressing the challenges we face in life, coupled with the presence and grace of Jesus, our One True Source of hope and peace. The column’s author, Laura Firtko, can be reached by email here: LifeHappens@pwoc.org
