I don't even know where to begin.
I was sitting here, trying to take joy in the small steps - the eye movement, the number of breaths per minute above what the ventilater does - and suddenly, I see a head move .. and eye start to open ... a foot begins to move in obvious discomfort ... hands and arms start to tug at the straps holding them away from all the tubes and wires ... her body begins to slowly move as if to find a more comfortable position ... the leg stretches and shakes, the way a leg will do when it's been too long in one position and the muscles need a good stretching ...
And I'm hurting.
This is what I wanted, to be here when MG opened her eyes. I wanted my hand to be the one she first squeezed, my command to be the one where she wiggled her toes. I got two of those - the eyes and the hand.
It's not like the movies. The beautiful starlet doesn't suddenly wake up, a sparkle in her eyes, her hair glossy and clean, and whisper something wall-poster profound.
No, the eyes are only half-opened. They are yellowed with the cream they've been putting in there to keep them moist. I can't even really see her wonderful green-brown-gray eyes - I'm no good with colors, and to me MG's eyes have never been about color as much as they've been about sparkle, about light, about expressing every emotion.
She doesn't understand.
There is no way she can know where she is, why she can't move. She looks like she's trying to sit up, but can't. She looks like she wants to roll over, but can't. She wants to raise her hands, but can't.
I don't know what I was thinking. I got what I wanted, but it hurts so much to see.
I find myself wanting for the nurse to put her back under, to turn the pain-killer up so she will go back into the bliss of unconsciousness, but they won't - can't - until MG proves she can follow simple commands.
"Stick out your tongue"
"Wiggle your toes"
"Squeeze my hand."
She turns her head toward the sound of whoever is talking to her; isn't that enough? She stretches her leg and her foot shakes; won't that do? She lifts her hand and I squeeze it; can't we be done here?
No. They aren't sure she's following commands; they think she may just be reacting.
Well, yes - don't they know MG? She doesn't follow commands! She reacts! Her ways are always the right ways. She knows what she wants to do; let her do it!
I find myself fighting to send her back into that dark hole from which she has barely emerged.
But that's me: I want it all, or I want nothing.
They yell at her, calling her name in a loud voice, tapping her on the chest to get her attention.
I speak softly, stroking her arm, telling her everything is going to be all right.
I fear we're working at cross-purposes here, and I know the one who is wrong.
But I can't help myself. She's hurting, I'm hurting; she's confused, I'm confused.
How I wish I could take the pain. If I could only make her understand what has happened, what is happening, what will happen; if I could explain that she's alive and her head and heart are intact and that's all that matters because everything else can be put back together ...
But that's not how it works. We fallen humans hate pain, because - whether we want to admit it or not - it is a reminder of our sin, which brought on suffering to a fallen world.
God never meant for us to experience pain. We chose that. We chose to follow a voice other than God's voice, and look at what has happened as a result?
Yet that pain is good. It tells us something is not right. It is a reminder that something needs to be fixed. It screams that there is a better way to live, a better place to be in, and that one day, when the pain is gone, we'll appreciate joy and peace even more.
And of course, God hurts with us. God hurt for us. God - once, long ago - even went so far as to hurt in our place.
I wonder if MG will remember mine was the first to see her open her eyes? I don't even know if she 'saw' me, at least not in the sense of cognitive memory.
So many of you have told me you were praying that I'd get to be the one she opened her eyes for, and I thank you for that.
But the truth is, I didn't really care; I just wanted to know she opened her eyes.
It is an hour after MG first opened her eyes. I remember it was 9:01. I was answering a text from SB about what had gone on today, when MG started to wake up. It's right there on my phone where I stopped in mid-sentence and typed "They came to x-ray her shes opened her eys (sic) and is moving! PTL!"
Now, it's 10:18. She looks like she's back asleep. She's no longer moving. The nurses that that's OK, it may take awhile, but we made a giant step.
It's just a first step. As SB eventually texted me back: "I know it is hard to watch. Praying for you and for her. Unfortunately, every step forward is going to be full of hard. ..."
I wish I'd written that. My wonderful daughter is so wise and eloquent and sees far beyond her years.
"Every step forward is going to be full of hard."
The best I can do is help her understand she won't be taking those steps alone.
You are remarkable, Ray. I've known MG for only about 3 years...of course, to know her is to love her...especially that smile...but until now, we've only spoken with you a handful of times. Regretfully, until now we haven't read or even known about your blog. It has become abundantly clear how perfectly suited for each other you are...how Gods beautiful picture of our relationship with Him is represented in your marriage. What you are teaching/showing/PROVING is a blessing on so many levels. I am convinced that you will never know the immense impact you and MG are having on the Kingdom, until we are all there. God bless you, Ray.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much Ray for keeping us so informed. One of my favorite MG stories was during the Hurricane Gustav threat to New Orleans when 80 evacuees stayed at MBCC for a week. On Sunday afternoon (when the 80 were actually on the road), I had not prepared for the 20-25 church members expected to help get the Gym and donated items ready. When 100+ members showed up, it was pandemonium for a few minutes until MG stepped up and instinctively, intuitively started organizing groups for tasks and putting everyone to work in logical, efficient ways. She was amazing! Clearly her giftedness used in perfection.
ReplyDeleteMy guess is when she wakes, she will instinctively, intuitively try to organize the nurses, meds, and doctors (and you, of course) to fix this pandemonium in her body. Praying for all of you.
Don't you wish it was as if she was "Sleeping Beauty," her eyelids simply lifted and all was right with the world? (Sorry...much of my literary analogies have a slight Disney influence it seems.) When my mom woke up (both times), my dad was there, but I wasn't. He said he was simultaneously thrilled to see her dark eyes looking back at him, but saddened that they were filled with confusion, pain and helplessness. He said he immediately wanted the doctors and nurses to put her back to sleep in order to stop her pain. Yet, they seemed to always push her beyond what he thought was appropriate or comfortable. They even seemed rough. At times, they even celebrated her pain as a milestone...as progress. Throughout her recovery and therapy, this seemed to be the theme. We had to develop a backbone when it came to this little tiny mama who could melt us all with her pleas of mercy. We had to push her like an Olympic athlete beyond anything we or she thought she could accomplish at any given time. It was FULL of hard...on everyone's part...but it became gradual steps forward. And, we rejoiced through her pain because it was better than watching her sleep. Feeling it with you all over again and praying that her pain is short-lived.
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