The ICU seems to be a really familiar place, which is something I never imagined I would have to say. However, life's circumstances seem to have lead me to this place. I have seen far too many people that I know and love go into the ICU and not come back out again. Aunt Gale, Mom (in a round about way), and Dad.
My Aunt Gale was such a fabulous person. Every one that knew her loved her. She was just that dynamic person that brought life into a room and when she left you felt like something was missing. She passed away when I was in high school. She was in the ICU during Spring Break, and stayed there until April Fool's Day. During Spring Break, when I was there, I could not bring myself to go beyond the waiting room doors. There was something too hard about going into that room and not seeing my aunt as I remembered her. It was almost as if something was stopping me from going so that my memories of her would not be tarnished. It was an unexplainable feeling. Although as I am sitting here writing this, I am reminded of my flight home from El Paso so that I was home for school the next week, I remember seeing a beautiful angel in the clouds. She had long red hair, a beautiful purple robe, and almost iridescent wings. What a peace and comfort it is when God allows you to see evidence of reminders of how much He loves and cares for His children.
Mom's story in the ICU is certainly different than the other two. Mom's stints in the ICU have always been harrowing. She was right on the brink of death many, many times, always managing to pull through. The very first time I remember Mom being in the ICU was as a result of a terrible car accident. Mom was thrown from the vehicle, resulting in a punctured lung, a broken leg, a broken back, a broken arm, numerous lacerations and bruises. She was a mess. She died six different times in the ICU at the hospital in Shreveport before they finally got things as stable as they could. Dad came to see me before school one Monday morning before school, after we had been camping that weekend. I knew something was wrong, and when Dad told me I remember crying for what seemed like hours. Dad told me that I could stay home from school that day and go see my Mom before they took her to Shreveport. I staunchly refused and got ready to go to school. Of course I guess I forgot to mention that I was only in the third grade. Mom survived. She survived major open heart surgery, several accidents, and multiple injuries. However, in the end, organ failure from complications related to Hepatitis C brought her life to a startling end. It was barely a week after she was sent home with the news that she had six weeks left to live that she breathed her last breath. I wish I could have been there that night. I wish that I would have been there at the hospice the night that she died. I wish I would have been there to hold her hand, pray for her, sing to her, and watch her take her last breath on Earth and know that she took her first breath in Heaven. I wasn't tough enough. I didn't have the strength to be there when she needed me. I know for a fact that fear took over and in this instance I just didn't measure up.
Dad's story... He was the "healthiest" sick person in the ICU. Because he was in the ICU for so long, I believe it allowed me to conquer some of those old fears. We spent so much time there playing games, having in depth conversations, and so much more. The idea of the heart we prayed so earnestly for coming in the form of him dying was never a thought that crossed our minds. Dr. Hall assured us that she was constantly on the look out for a heart that would be a match for him. God had different plans and this time it was for Dad to be with Him. This time was so much different than any of the others. That last night in the ICU, I was able to hold my daddy's hand, sing his favorite praise songs, pray, and eventually see him take his last breath on Earth. Was it sad? You bet, but it was different. I was able to say things that I will never tell anyone to him. Things that were personal and sweet. I was able to pass along a message that caused him to shed a tear right before he died. It was the sweetest, saddest, and most amazing moment I can remember up until this time.
Each of these ICU experiences bring with them a new look at things. However it brings up some definite questions as well. First of all, what is so special about the ICU? The obvious answer is the level of care. The small ratio of patients to nurses is another factor. Are there other ways that the ICU can be viewed? I think so, and this is where my real intention for this blog takes off.
God has His own personal ICU. He intensely cares for His children. He uses this ICU to teach, train, correct, rebuke, refine, shape, and mold His children. The physician to patient ratio is one to one. By far better than you will receive in any hospital. God's ICU is a place where change is inevitable. You cannot enter this unit and leave the same. It is impossible. It is out of the character of God for us to stay the same. There is always room for improvement and change. if there is no change, there is no growth. Growth is always the desired outcome when leaving the ICU. You want to come out different. Recent events have caused me to take a long look at my heart. What am I keeping to my self that needs to be shared? What am I holding on to with futility that will never be resolved until I let go? My personal stay in God's ICU is far from over. I choose to stay in this personal one on one care unit in order to become better. The longer I stay, the more the changes come. The more changes that come, the more growing pains are experienced. The more growing pains that are experienced, the more my testimony changes. In the end, it isn't about me. It's never going to be about me, it's always going to be about how God chooses to use me and the testimony He has given me to share.
Until next time,
Melody
