Still, That Small Voice
I have been working hard on myself to learn to listen, again, to that still small voice. I thought it had abandoned me for it spoke nonsense, I felt. But, I was to be proved wrong, perhaps.
I was on the last two days of a six week medical visit to Alberta. My youngest son and little Mei came to pick me up and drive me back the hour trip. I meant to spend the rest of the day and evening with them but something strange happened.
As we came closer to Lethbridge, I sensed an urgency to go to my brother, Bryce’s, where he was convalescing from having a PIT put in his arm through to his main heart artery. He has dealt with pain and infection in his calf for the last year and there have been stringent work done by home care nurses, daily, on his leg. I have been worried, and, although he does not say so, so is he, that he might loose his leg. They have tried all sorts of antibiotics and nothing has cured the problem. He has lost nearly 150 pounds. His stomach skin has dropped and he needs to have a great mass removed. They can do nothing until his leg heals. I have been worried but I have not felt this kind of urge for a long time.
So, rather than spend the time with my youngest son and family, I told him I felt a strong need to go to Bryce’s. We arrived at his house when the nurse was there. She dressed the wounded leg and hooked up a new antibiotic they have been trying for two weeks. He only needed a couple more doses. We chatted and I found out more about the problem. We visited and Bryce was feeling fine. The phone rang and the home care nurse told him she had forgotten to turn on the intravenous and he should start it himself. He was not sure how, but did what he thought said start. It took a couple of pushes. Within fifteen minutes, he said, “I have to go to the washroom, that’s the problem with this stuff.” When he came out, he was gray and coughing. He began a cold sweat and then a gasping and groaning. I asked him who I should call. The phone was in the kitchen powering up so I had to walk in and get the phone. He told me to call the home nurse but while I was looking for the number, he said, “No, call the Dr.” As I was trying to locate that number and get through past the inevitable, “Please hold on,” he began huffing worse. Finally the Dr’s nurse came on and I began explaining. She said to hold and she would talk to the dr. In the meantime, Bryce got worse. He was now seriously groaning and having trouble breathing. I simply hung up and called 911. Now began the long list of questions they had to ask, but I connected from the house phone to the hand-held phone and walked over so I was closer to my brother. He was struggling. I worked hard to panic. They finally told me to have him lean back reclined. That meant a move from the couch to his reclining chair-and-a-half. I had to put the phone down to help him, he was weak and he is heavy. The 911 heard his struggle and said they were on their way immediately. They continued to try to talk to me while I tried to help Bryce get his legs up on the recliner and get settled. They finally asked me to turn the light on and go stand out where the ambulance could see me. In the meantime, Bryce began to get anxious and a bit panicky so he began pushing buttons to stop the intravenous. I was at a loss, I knew nothing of how it worked and he could not seem to get it stopped. He finally said it was stopped and there was a dinging from the machine. I wasn’t sure he had. I asked him to just lie back while I went out to direct the ambulance. It took them ten more minutes to arrive. I kept running back and forth from outside to inside to check on him. As soon as I got the ambulance’s attention, I rushed back in. He was still panting and gray.
They rushed in and then another crew came. They immediately started oxygen and checked the infuser. It was off. In half an hour, they had stabilized him. They began discussing whether to move him. I heard whispers about difficulty and needing another team to help move him. Bryce is still very heavy from his waist down. Then the Dr’s office called and I explained that I had to call 911 and was told that was absolutely the right thing to do. They made an appointment for 9:30 with his doctor. I had, in the meantime, called Patty, Bryce’s wife, at work, and had told her I thought she should come home.
Bryce was soon well enough to talk logically and they team decided he would be alright but left a warning that, he must call if any changes happened. They took off the infuser.
Bryce learned he must always, always, keep a phone nearby. He cannot be alone while the medications are infusing. The home care must follow through and do their job. There is some question whether he should eb alone at all. The doctor is not sure he suddenly became allergic to the penicillin after taking it for two weeks. It may be his heart. More Doctor appointments with specialists are being made. In the meantime, Bryce is going without antibiotics that will save his leg. No one in the medical field is in too much of a hurry but Bryce and I both know the urgency. Bryce says I saved his life. I may have, but I know it was that sense of urgency and the demanding small voice that had me stop at his house rather than spend time with my kids.
Was it my still small voice that trusted me again? Or, was it a blessing my brother had been given that spurred that still small voice to speak to my soul? I cannot know just now, but I have learned a great lesson… IT STILL SPEAKS!
This is part of living in the present, in the moment. I cannot doubt, I have to attend to what it says so it will keep on speaking to me. I have to pay attention to it since that is my connection to all of life. I have given thanks; as soon as I got home, I lit the smudge and gave thanks. My life has to be one of gratitude. My recent medical definitions demand such. I have to cultivate deep listening. I have to remember that the world wants to be heard as much as that still small voice inside me.
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