It was so hard to leave Kathi, but my life was waiting for me back in California. Stacey and I had a HORRIBLE experience trying to get back home. I won't go into details, but, suffice it to say, I will NEVER fly United Airlines EVER again!
James has a lot to deal with right now, so I didn't want to bombard him with phone calls and text messages asking for updates on Kathi, but I had to check in with him a couple of times. The updates were short. Basically, not much change, but she is continuing to work hard in physical therapy, and there is some improvement in her physical condition. Good news, to be sure, but not super encouraging. My head knows that this is going to be a long process, but my heart wants to see quick, noticeable improvements. She has so much going for her, and she deserves so much happiness. This just doesn't seem fair.
Then, last Saturday morning, Patrick sent me a text message with a photo of Kathi and James that he took that morning.
The difference in her smile was nothing short of amazing. I could not believe it! In three short weeks, she has come such a long way! As soon as I got the photo, I called Patrick. He said that the doctor said that Kathi is "exceeding our expectations."
Exceeding expectations!
Of course she is. Kathi is a fighter. She overcame breast cancer, for crying out loud!
She can do this!
Tuesday, August 06, 2013
The Road to Recovery
Saturday, August 03, 2013
The Morning a Stroke, Like an Earthquake, Shook My Life
The call came at 3-something on Friday morning, July 12, 2013. When I saw my brother's name on the phone, my heart skipped a beat. I knew immediately that I was about to get some bad news.
Hello?
Deb, sorry to call you at this time, but I thought you'd want to know right away. Kathi's had a stroke, and it looks pretty bad.
I remember literally shaking my head quickly as if to clear the cobwebs, because, surely I didn't hear that right. A stroke? Kathi? That can't be right. She's not even 51!
You can't prepare for this kind of news. Like an earthquake, it shakes your life without warning, jarring you from your complacency, and compelling you to action.
In an instant, my priorities shifted. Nothing mattered except Kathi. Not the two freelance projects with their looming deadlines, not the boxes in my garage that I still hadn't unpacked from our move over three months ago, nothing. My beautiful younger sister was fighting for her life, and getting out to Virginia was the only thing that mattered. After losing my older sister, Carla, to pancreatic cancer ten years ago, the thought of losing Kathi, too, was something I couldn't imagine.
The next day news about Kathi was mixed. A message from one person said she was much better, even singing and laughing. There was hope! But later in the day, the news was bad. She was in ICU, 100% blockage, nothing the doctors could do, it's a waiting game.
The next several hours were spent making preparations to go to Virginia. And praying--lots of praying. I knew that God could spare her life, but would he? That was the part that scared me.
Thankfully, my niece, Stacey, came with me. I honestly don't know what I would have done without her, because I was completely unprepared for what I was when I got to the hospital. By then we knew that two of the main arteries to Kathi's brain were completely blocked, and because she didn't get medical care within five hours of the onset of the stroke, there was nothing they could do to unblock them. So, all she has going for her is her strength and her will to live.
And her family.
And her faith.
Over the next nine days, I witnessed that strength of Kathi's, and amidst the tears and the fear, there was laughter, and there was hope. Small victories that were huge. Like the day she remembered my name (it was only once, but it was a victory). And the day we showed up at the hospital to find her sitting in a wheelchair, dressed in her own clothes. She was beaming, and she was beautiful. And one day, she surprised us all by noticing that the calendar said it was June instead of July!
It's a surreal experience seeing my vibrant, smart, funny, articulate sister unable to communicate her thoughts, unable to walk or lift her right arm, unable to even feed herself. But in this vulnerable state, the core of Kathi shone through. It was clear to everyone she came in contact with that she has a pure heart, and a fighting spirit, and a sharp wit. She somehow found a way to make light of her situation, easing the pain for the rest of us with her sense of humor. The nurses would ask her, "Were you always this funny?" And she would immediately reply, "Yes." And then she'd look at us and say, "Right?"
Right.
The thing that struck me the most was how her deep, abiding faith in God was clearly comforting her. She asked people to pray for her, she sang songs from our childhood, she asked us to read the Bible to her. And, when a phrase touched her, she would get emotional. And, of course, that would make me get emotional.
We celebrated Kathi's 51st birthday while we were there. She asked for mom's homemade banana pudding instead of a cake. Stacey and I were only too happy to make it for her. I think it's safe to say that she enjoyed it (and she fed herself, thank you very much).
On the fourth day we were there, Kathi greeted us by telling us emphatically, "I'm going to get better. I promise."
Kathi has a long road ahead of her. It's not going to be easy. But I am going to hold her to that promise.
And I'm going to pray. Hard.
