When bad things happen to good people...

Tuesday, September 6, 2011: I really can't believe I'm going to write this blog post because it shouldn't be true. It should be some awful nightmare that I'm going to wake up from soon if I can just pinch myself hard enough. But, unfortunately, it is all true and real and much too scary to give every detail here on one page. So, forgive me. I might have to give bits and pieces to begin with and slowly add the rest another day, another week, another month when I am stronger.

My sweet, spunky, funny, awesome Mumsy is in the Shock/Trauma ICU at IMC in Salt Lake. She has been there since around midnight on Friday, Sept. 2. That last post you just read? Yeah, merely hours later, my world tipped upside down again. Really, haven't we had enough already?

Mom drove up from St. George Friday with Lachlan and Cindy, apparently with no signs or symptoms of what would follow a brief time later. In hindsight, we now know that she had been tired lately, wondering if something was wrong again with her heart and not having the energy to do much around her house. Little signs that we now recognize, but didn't at the time. She came to my house after dropping Lachlan and Cindy off in SL. We visited, we both napped (one day after my surgery), and then she said she would go drop off her things at Aaron's for the weekend. She visited with them in their driveway for a few minutes, turned around to get her things out of the car, and collapsed, falling backwards and fracturing her skull on the cement. She was not breathing and her heart had stopped. Aaron immediately dialed 911 and Lindsey - brave, wonderful Lindsey - began CPR. It saved her life. The paramedics arrived, continued CPR, and had to use the paddles to get her heart going. I was called by one of their dear neighbors and we rushed to the ER, almost beating the ambulance. We were all hysterical, especially Aaron and Lindsey, who had experienced the whole terrible thing. Chelsea arrived a bit later, having left her home in St. George a few hours after Mom & Lachlan. It was a horrible waiting time, with intermittant reports from the ER doctors who were treating her. Besides the nasty gash on the back of her head (12cm long from top to bottom), she also had broken ribs from the CPR, a concussion, and an unpredictable heart rhythm. It was soon evident that she needed more care from a trauma-specialized hospital and was transported by Life Flight to IMC in Salt Lake. We were able to finally see her just before the Life Flight crew arrived. It was heartbreaking. She was hooked up to every type of machine you can imagine and was unconscious. We kissed her, we told her we loved her, and Aaron gave her a sweet blessing. Then, we were actually able to walk out to the heli-pad and watch Life Flight load her in and take off on its 8-10 minute journey across the valley.

(I saved the above draft from yesterday. It's hard for me to write about all of this and not be nauseous. That's how I deal with stress lately and it's not fun. Someday, maybe I can write more of the details - I have been keeping a notebook - but for now, I'll just try to update.)

Mom was admitted to the Shock/Trauma ICU at IMC in Murray. Floor No. 5 in that beautiful, state-of-the-art hospital. We've decided that Floor 5 really sucks, pardon the expression. Everyone there is in some sort of trauma, either from falls, accidents, injuries, etc. and the fact that it's ICU only intensifies the pain for both family and patients. That first night, she was lying flat on her back with the tubes and monitors plastering her tiny body. She looked ghastly. She was in a medically-induced coma and was slowly warming up from the forced hypothermia that medical teams put heart arrest patients in to prevent further damage to their vital organs. Did anyone know that? I am constantly amazed at what our bodies can endure, whether it be freezing temperatures, trauma to the head, hearts that are painfully shocked into beating again, and broken ribs from the life-saving efforts of CPR. That night, we were walking zombies, just waiting for the news that Mom had given up rather than go through another minute of pain. Troy arrived early Saturday morning and Dionne arrived late Saturday night, both road weary and shocked at the turn of our lives now.

Over the past four days, we have witnessed the lowest lows and the highest highs imaginable. The major miracle is that Mom is still alive. She is breathing on her own, but she has developed pneumonia and requires the breathing tube to help suction the "junk" out of her poor lungs. Her skull fracture is stapled closed and we're not sure if she can feel that pain above the other pain of her broken ribs, which certainly give her excruciating torture with every breath and every move she tries to take. She has two black/purple eyes from the fall and can't seem to keep her eyes open for very long. But, when we call out her name, she tries so hard to open her eyes, focus in on our faces, and give us a smile or a nod. She has even started to mouth words and sentences to us, like "Thank you", "I love you", and even, "I'm not ready to die yet."

As siblings (all five of us are here, as Laura arrived late last night), we are bound by our love for our mother and our promises to her that we will not let her live like a vegetable with a severely diminished life. So far, I think we have been able to achieve what she would want us to do for her. We ache to take out the breathing tube, but we also realize how much worse she would be without it. And now that we have seen her eyes and read her lips and watched her smile and even try to laugh, we know that she is fighting to live. She has a long, terribly hard journey ahead of her, but we believe in Miracles and Hope, don't we? Every day we have seen tender mercies that can only come from God and we know she has angels around her.

My biggest worry is the pneumonia. I think if she can fight that beast, she can beat her own Goliath and recover from all the other nasty things she's dealing with. If it takes everything in her power to fight it and she just can't do it any more, I hope and pray our loving Father in Heaven will wrap her in His arms and take her home. We will love her through it all. We know either path will be hard, but we only want what's best for her. If she can continue to fight, we will be beside her all the way. God bless my little Mumsy. I love her with everything I am. She is my biggest fan, my strongest supporter, the only person on earth who loves me in spite of all my weaknesses and faults. I am proud to be her daughter. Eternity won't be long enough to show her how much she means to me.

My own test results have not come in yet. I think that is another tender mercy. I simply can't worry about that right now. All my strength is going to my little mama. Will keep everyone posted as I can... I'm on my way back to the hospital now for another few hours, to walk amongst the beeps and buzzes of the monitors and gain strength from my amazing siblings, but also to kiss Mom on the forehead and whisper, "I love you" into her ear and see her lips move as she says, "I love you" back.