Here's some personal news, which I hope will inspire you.
My husband returned from a midday hospital appointment, minus his catheter, early in the afternoon. We were both overjoyed, seeing as he's worn the same device for eleven weeks. So many doctors have treated his internal infection and prescribed different antibiotics, yet nothing worked. Would this be a new beginning?
He decided to do some shopping after our evening meal. My pride in him swelled. A man, determined not to let the odds beat him, or the mishandling of his case get him down. When he managed to perform in the bathroom, I gave him an ovation.
But things deteriorated. At 5pm, he changed his mind about shopping, which should have warned me, even though he gave a false excuse. By 7pm, he began pacing, then sprinting to the bathroom with diarrhea and back again. Agony showed on his scrunched-up face and his jerky movements. He couldn't sit down. Then, the pacing became frantic—up and down the room, trying to sit but jerking upright before he perched on his chair, talking all the time about the pain in his lower region. When he couldn't bear the pain any longer, we agreed he should call for an ambulance.
We're lucky enough to live in flat with medical help available at the push of a button. He spoke to an adviser at 11pm, then the medical team. An ambulance representative rang him back and went through the procedure of questions to check his condition and needs. Back and forth he paced while we waited for help, he in absolute agony, me unable to do anything but watch.
At about midnight, the ambulance drove him to the hospital. He stood during the ride. Puffs of oxygen temporarily lessened the pain. I went to bed with an uneven heartbeat and slept fitfully until I woke to hear a vehicle door slam. I greeted him, hair a paler shade of gray to blend with his face at 5.30am. He'd undergone extensive tests which the hospital could do straight away to get to the root of the problem. Infection in both bladder and kidney (I think) and, of course, a new catheter fitted.
While he sleeps, I've begun my day slightly early.
I'm so grateful for caring, efficient staff at the Accident and Emergency department of Barnet General Hospital.
I'm grateful for a warm safe home while the new dawn reveals snow outside.
I'm grateful for each breath I draw.
And, most of all, I'm grateful to have my husband home sleeping in his own bed. I know when he wakes, he'll fight the brave fight.
Sometimes, we forget how important the simple things are.
My husband returned from a midday hospital appointment, minus his catheter, early in the afternoon. We were both overjoyed, seeing as he's worn the same device for eleven weeks. So many doctors have treated his internal infection and prescribed different antibiotics, yet nothing worked. Would this be a new beginning?
He decided to do some shopping after our evening meal. My pride in him swelled. A man, determined not to let the odds beat him, or the mishandling of his case get him down. When he managed to perform in the bathroom, I gave him an ovation.
But things deteriorated. At 5pm, he changed his mind about shopping, which should have warned me, even though he gave a false excuse. By 7pm, he began pacing, then sprinting to the bathroom with diarrhea and back again. Agony showed on his scrunched-up face and his jerky movements. He couldn't sit down. Then, the pacing became frantic—up and down the room, trying to sit but jerking upright before he perched on his chair, talking all the time about the pain in his lower region. When he couldn't bear the pain any longer, we agreed he should call for an ambulance.
We're lucky enough to live in flat with medical help available at the push of a button. He spoke to an adviser at 11pm, then the medical team. An ambulance representative rang him back and went through the procedure of questions to check his condition and needs. Back and forth he paced while we waited for help, he in absolute agony, me unable to do anything but watch.
At about midnight, the ambulance drove him to the hospital. He stood during the ride. Puffs of oxygen temporarily lessened the pain. I went to bed with an uneven heartbeat and slept fitfully until I woke to hear a vehicle door slam. I greeted him, hair a paler shade of gray to blend with his face at 5.30am. He'd undergone extensive tests which the hospital could do straight away to get to the root of the problem. Infection in both bladder and kidney (I think) and, of course, a new catheter fitted.
While he sleeps, I've begun my day slightly early.
I'm so grateful for caring, efficient staff at the Accident and Emergency department of Barnet General Hospital.
I'm grateful for a warm safe home while the new dawn reveals snow outside.
I'm grateful for each breath I draw.
And, most of all, I'm grateful to have my husband home sleeping in his own bed. I know when he wakes, he'll fight the brave fight.
Sometimes, we forget how important the simple things are.
Purgatory. en.wikipedia.org I'm reminded of the inspiring words of The Impossible Dream.
To dream ... the impossible dream ...
To fight ... the unbeatable foe ...
To bear ... with unbearable sorrow ...
To run ... where the brave dare not go ...
To right ... the unrightable wrong ...
To love ... pure and chaste from afar ...
To try ... when your arms are too weary ...
To reach ... the unreachable star ...
This is my quest, to follow that star ...
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far ...
To fight for the right, without question or pause ...
To be willing to march into Hell, for a Heavenly cause ...
And I know if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest,
That my heart will lie will lie peaceful and calm,
when I'm laid to my rest ...
And the world will be better for this:
That one man, scorned and covered with scars,
Still strove, with his last ounce of courage,
To reach ... the unreachable star ...
Have you shown courage when the odds are stacked against you?
To dream ... the impossible dream ...
To fight ... the unbeatable foe ...
To bear ... with unbearable sorrow ...
To run ... where the brave dare not go ...
To right ... the unrightable wrong ...
To love ... pure and chaste from afar ...
To try ... when your arms are too weary ...
To reach ... the unreachable star ...
This is my quest, to follow that star ...
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far ...
To fight for the right, without question or pause ...
To be willing to march into Hell, for a Heavenly cause ...
And I know if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest,
That my heart will lie will lie peaceful and calm,
when I'm laid to my rest ...
And the world will be better for this:
That one man, scorned and covered with scars,
Still strove, with his last ounce of courage,
To reach ... the unreachable star ...
Have you shown courage when the odds are stacked against you?
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