In The Outpatient Department, Where Time Stands Still

Last Thursday, we had a kind of emergency. A mini-emergency. Health related. My husband’s, unfortunately. At first we panicked, we didn’t know what to do, where to go, who should we call? And then, my experience as a SAHM for many years kicked in and I remembered the Outpatient Department at our health clinic. It was the place I took my daughter many times when she was little and sick.

Because we were sure my husband would need some tests and a doctor, I told him to call his family practitioner for a referral, and off we went.

As we didn’t want to go directly to the hospital, the Outpatient Department was the best option. I think about it like the little sister of an emergency room in a hospital… They are able to do basic tests, they have doctors and nurses and give you any treatment necessary. For us it is good because it is close to our home and my husband was able to walk there. What I like (well, if I can use the word “like” when I speak about a place for medical emergencies) about the place is that mainly in the afternoons it is not crowded.

After some anxiety filled time, they received us and they did tests and a doctor saw my husband and concluded it is not a “go to the hospital” situation, more like a “wait and see one”. After they ruled out the emergency factor, everything just quieted down around us. Everybody talked in low voices and I felt myself relax and be able to look around. Because they weren’t in a hurry anymore, they left us – my husband in a bed and me, standing guard nearby.

There weren’t many patients in the ward. An old man, that came with his wife also, wanted to leave and tried to argue with the doctor. But the physician, calmly and politely, was attempting to talk some sense into him – “you have almost no white blood cells, you cannot go home. Not yet.” Then somehow the conversation became about family names and their origin. This is what I like here: everybody has an origin story.

There was also an older lady who wasn’t feeling well but couldn’t tell exactly why and what bothered her. I left the doctors and nurses to try and unravel the mystery.

There were a couple of empty beds and I was so tired I wanted to just lie down in one and go to sleep. And to wake up only when everything is all right.

In the end, they filled out the papers and let us go.  

We walked home slowly; my husband was exhausted. Outside, the day was exactly as we left it – people hurrying home, cars honking impatiently, a dog barking in the nearby park.

Whatever tomorrow would bring, it wasn’t an emergency anymore and for one afternoon, that was enough for us. 

Don’t Do It Like I Did It

 

 

Everything went downhill since yesterday afternoon when we returned from my husband’s treatment. He has been feeling poorly since last week and nobody at the hospital was sure why. There were many theories floating around but none of them really helpful.

The last PET scan showed that the lymphoma is almost gone, so everyone was happy. Truth be told, yesterday I saw with my own eyes the differences between the two PET scans my husband had – one at the beginning of the treatment and the other last week. In the first one, I could actually see two dazzling, huge “suns” besides lots of shining stars. That’s how spread and active the disease was. And in the second one, well, almost total blackout, power outage. Here and there, lit candles and that’s it. No spotlights, no glaring supernovas. So, of course the doctors would focus on the positive outcome. And we were really glad, too. But my husband was still feeling unwell. So, they tweaked here and there his medication, added something new and sent us home.

The problem was my husband’s condition went from bad to worse.

He woke me up in the morning telling me he called his friend to drive him to the hospital because he was worse than he was in the evening. He talked to the doctor and he’s waiting for him.

I helped him pack all he needed in case they’d keep him there overnight and after he left, I tried, somehow, to begin my day. Coffee, then clean the house, change the bedsheets, you know, domestic stuff that needed to be done. So far, so good.

What did actually happen?

For once, I kept misplacing my mobile phone. Because I wanted to hear it in case my husband texted me, I took it with me while doing stuff and I kept putting it in all kinds of places.

Luckily, I know how to find it through google, so I did that. Several times.

Because I was so stressed and anxious, I kept dropping stuff. When I opened the fridge food kept falling out of it, stuff I didn’t remember placing inside it. One cup of ready-made coffee fell on the floor and broke, so I grabbed what was closer because the puddle kept getting bigger and bigger. It was a big towel I wanted to throw in the washing machine. After I mopped up the liquid I decided to drop the towel in the shower, to let it soak in some cold water. Of course, I then got tangled in other stuff to do and I realized I forgot the towel in the shower only when the water reached the hall between the rooms, heading to the living room. The drain hole got covered with the towel I threw without looking where, so the water couldn’t drain. I had to deal with the whole situation and after half an hour the water was gone. Bonus – the tiled floor was clean, too.

And I still couldn’t find my phone. Just kept running around like a headless chicken, or, as my Romanian grandma used to say “ ca o goanga fara fir”.

I then proceeded to share my lunch with Klara, our cat, because she is crazy about fish and I was having salmon.

At some point during the day my husband called me from the hospital telling me he decided to come home and I got in a frenzy trying to finish all my chores without doing any damage in the process.

The rest of the day just passed in a blur, trying to convince my husband to eat and drink something, my daughter came home, I went shopping, had dinner, did the dishes and now I am sitting here, in front of the PC, tired and a little dizzy from all the events of the day.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring. I hope I won’t spend the day chasing my phone, flooding the hallway, breaking cups or forgetting towels in the shower. More than that, I hope my husband wakes up feeling a little better.

It seems that some days are really determined to test how many things one person can juggle before everything begins slipping through their fingers.

Today was one of those days.

Tomorrow, please be kinder.

The Invisible, Suddenly Visible Summer

 

Last night, the summer I thought would be an invisible one for me became visible.

Iran attacked us.

And everything that I was carrying with me for the past weeks, months even, felt like a wave that came crushing over my head.

The sirens are back. The late-night run for shelter. The flashbacks.

And so is the fear. For my daughter. For my husband. The anxiety. The exhaustion of spending so much emotional energy on medical appointments, procedures, tests and uncertainty.  I though I could at least move through them, survive them like I always did. For the past 14 years.

But no. Suddenly, the pre-alarm sounded. The headlines said: “Hey, you have one more thing to add to your piles of worries”.

But I won’t stop living my invisible, suddenly visible summer. I will try to cope, as I always do, by writing. 

Words never fail me, they come when I summon them.  

Life's Unpredictable Interventions

I  have talked earlier about God's plans versus mine. Well, that was only the tip of the iceberg. Because, believe me, I had so many things planned, only to be shunned by...divine intervention?

I don't intend to look in the distant past, because it would be pointless, and I presume, boring. I am going to tell you about stuff that's been unfolding since, let me see, about 13 years ago...

First of all, if you are new to my blog, you must know that I have been living in Israel for 27 years. That I am a Christian. And that I had a difficult time adjusting to my life here...After a while I simply didn't pay attention to the exterior world, it was too much for me and I would've gone nuts. After a while, everything seemed, I don't know, routine. One step in front of the other type of life. Keep on going for the sake of my family...

Anyhow, in the beginning I thought someday I would be able to return to my home-country, Romania. I said to myself the deadline would be my daughter finishing high school. I made plans and the thought of returning home kept me breathing easier. You know, the light at the end of the tunnel.. 

But...

In 2013 my husband was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. It came from nowhere and for a while, we were paralyzed by the news. Then, little by little, we made peace with the diagnosis and my husband received his (first) treatment. We had to let go of our dream to return to Romania. The doctors said that with this type of lymphoma there is no definitive healing, only remission. One has to learn to live with this awful disease. Like a form of chronic cancer.

So, yes, karma, God, the Higher being, universal conscience, call it whatever you like decided that we are to stay in Israel. At least here the treatments for lymphoma are the latest and very effective.

I said, OK, it is what it is. At least, I have my holidays. I can go and visit Romania whenever I want, recharge my batteries, soothe my soul and come back here.

Wrong again.

Along came Covid and besides the world-wide no fly no holidays no fun situation we had our own situation at home. My husband got sick with Covid in the hospital, while going through his second round of chemotherapy . Yep, it came back. For the second time. The Covid hit him hard, his defenses very very low because of chemo...

And then we thought we will have a reprieve. We were optimistic. Dare to dream. 

My husband was thinking about traveling to Romania for the 50th anniversary of high school graduation. I said I'll go with him, I needed a reprieve from all the wars we had lately.

But, ironically, again somebody had other stuff put aside for us.

My husband's lymphoma was back. He found out during the time we were already packing for Romania. Meaningless to say we were crushed. Oh God, not again!!!

So, you see my point here. No plans. Not anymore. Not ever. Just wait for whatever life has to throw at me...

I still want to do so many things, even now. But, I fear I won't be able to to any of them. If life keeps interfering with my plans, I may never do them at all. 

I no longer trust life enough to make plans.
Every time I begin to hope, something happens — illness, war, fear, another diagnosis waiting around the corner.
So perhaps it is easier not to dream too loudly anymore.

Easier than living with the heartbreak of watching those dreams collapse again and again. Better this way. To avoid heartbreak and that sense of doom that keeps following me everywhere.

  

Me, Maya and God

Image by Javier Ruata via Flickr

Since Maya was born, I 've become a lonely person...Well, I was kinda lonely even before, you know, the loneliness when sorrounded by lots of people and noise...But for three years I am ALONE. Almost.

My husband goes to work every day in the morning and returns in the evenings, spends half an hour- an hour with Maya then he puts her to sleep (Maya refuses point blank to be put to sleep by anyone else than her daddy) then he watches his favourite series - "House M.D."then falls asleep. Darie (my son) was in the army and now started working. And with him, that's another story....At 23 he's so self absorbed he doesn't care much for anything else. And he also works long hours, then goes to the gym and meets with friends. I think. I hope. I don't know a lot about my son's private life. It is very frustrating, but I guess I have to let him go and live his life the ways he thinks he wants.

And this leaves me at home for almost 12 hours every day alone, only with Maya. In the beginning I was petrified, I was so afraid to be alone with her. She was so tiny and vulnerable and I was responsible for her. Well, that was my depression thinking for me. I had a few panic attacks, as well. I am usually able to control them, I have my relaxation and breathing exercises, but the didn't work 100 percent , all the time. Sometimes the fear overhelms me and I surrender to it.

But I have another weapon. I pray. Yes, I pray. When I am afraid that something bad will happen, when I panic and my heart starts pounding in my chest I pray. I am not a very religious person but I am a believer. And I do believe in the power of a prayer...

Everything I feel it has been amplified since I am a mother. My fears, my uncertainties, even the symptoms of certain ilnesses. I am afraid to be sick because I won't have the strenght to look afer my kids, especially Maya. I know I have to be strong, healthy and lucid but somehow I manage to lose my grip on self-control, so I pray. Our Father, Thou Art in Heaven, help me. Hallowed be Thy Name. Thy Kingdom come. I am so small and insignifiant, I know, but I am in such I dire need of You in my life. Thy Will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven. I have nobody else to listen to me, to confort me, to make me think clear. .Give us this day our daily bread.And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. Just let me feel the greatness of your Love. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Please God, I have nobody to turn my face to but You. Amen.

By the time I finish my prayer, I feel calmer somehow, more serene, better. And I am able to survive another day, to move on to the next battle...

It is late and I am very tired. As usual. Tomorow is Friday and so much to do!

Night night, whoever you are...