Best Laid Plans

An Unexpected Journey

  When your brother calls to tell you he is going in for a heart catherization, you pay attention. Ted called to tell me that he had become exhausted when trying to mow his grass. He would mow a few minutes and then have to stop and rest until he could regain his strength. Fifteen years earlier, I had gone to my primary care physician with the same complaint. I asked if he was going to schedule me for a stress test and he said, “No need, you have already failed the lawnmower test.” I went for a heart cath and didn’t leave the hospital until the surgeon had completed a quintuple by-pass surgery. As we all know, the heart cath is an exploratory procedure that answers the questions about the health of your pulmonary system. In my family, they usually reveal substantial clogged arteries and an immediate need for correction. So it was this time also. Ted’s wife, Fay, called the next day and said he had 60-70% blockage in two arteries and almost 100% blockage in the main heart artery. Unlike me, he was sent home and his surgery was scheduled for twelve days later. His surgeon was leaving for a vacation on an island in the Indian Ocean and would not return until that date. Ted really wanted to use this physician, so he agreed to wait.

   Actually this worked better for me, I was able to schedule around some of my work and I would be able to stay with him for a week.  I arrived three days before his surgery and embarked on a plan to keep him preoccupied so he would not be thinking about his impending appointment. We spent some laid back time in nostalgic reminiscing and visited some old friends and places that were near and dear to us. I had not planned this trip, but we were able to spend quality time and he was able to divert his mind away from his surgery. I did not tell him that we had received an urgent call from Georgia that our dear cousin Betty Joyce was taken to the hospital. Her son Steve had called and said that she was seriously ill with near renal failure and things did not look good. A subsequent call suggested that she was somewhat improved. I decided that I would tell Ted she was ill, but we honestly didn’t know how serious it was.  

  Fay and I drove him to the hospital at 5:30am on the morning of the procedure. We were led to the pre-op room and he was prepped for the surgery. This was the second time I had been an observer instead of a participant in the process. Most of the nurses were caring and good-natured as they accomplished their daily routines. They teased him and laughed at his humor as they routinely prepared him for the incredible procedure that would forever change his life. (No, not the Bruce/Caitlyn procedure). Ted was quiet, but I could sense the anxiety that was growing to a crescendo in his mind. Some close friends and family joined us briefly and helped distract him from becoming over anxious. A team of nurses came and ran through their checklist while confirming the process with one another. The anesthesiologist visited, the surgeon appeared with his fresh tan from the tropics and then Ted began to remember less and less of the day. We were invited to  the surgical waiting room and bade him farewell until we would see him in the ICU. Ted was in for a rough day, but we trusted God to lead him through it. After getting his birthdate correct for the 14^th time that morning, he slipped off into the twilight zone.

   We would congregate in the surgical waiting room where a growing number of friends and family were gathering. We entertained one another by catching up on each other’s lives and meeting new friends. The coffee was free and the volunteer staff kept us apprised of his progress, as well as the monitor over the hospitality desk. In the surgery, the skilled team of physician’s hands performed the precise intricacies that would heal Ted’s damaged heart. We tried not to think about it, but we silently prayed that all was going well. I had a good catch-up visit with Ted’s daughters and son-in-laws. His surgery progressed very well and finally was complete. The surgeon met us briefly and advised that all had gone very well, and he expected no problems.

Ted and Fay in Pre-Ops

                                                             

Ted in Cardiac ICU Recovery Room

                                                                                                         

   We were then led to the ICU waiting room to await his recovery. A nurse came and invited the family to accompany her to see him in the ICU. She was assigned to him and we would see her for the next couple of days. One cannot give these nurses enough credit for the wonderful work they perform. Ted eventually aroused and as a typical heart surgery survivor, he felt like he was on the brink of extinction. Fay and her sister Kay tried to spend the night in the ICU waiting room, but several large family groups came and were very disruptive to everyone else. They left the hospital and Fay returned early in the morning. He awakened enough that he was brought a tray of food and he managed a smile that he did not feel.

Ted and Fay the first morning in  Cardiac ICU

   He was transferred to a private room in the afternoon. Fay and I accompanied him on the gurney journey through the back halls and elevators to his new room. I told Fay to go home and I would stay that night with him, because I expected it to be a tough one. I was not disappointed.

I settled into a reclining chair and kept one eye open. I remembered how much care I had needed after my heart procedure. Somewhere around 11pm I heard Ted jump straight up out of bed and he landed standing on the floor.
He was upset and said loudly, “How do I get out of this thing, I need to go to the bathroom”.

By the time I could get to the other side of the bed he had stretched all of his tubes to the max and was on the verge of pulling some loose.
 “Ted”, I said, “You need to get back in bed, Bud. You are still connected to several tubes and you can’t get off the bed.”

 “ Why not” he slurred in a heavily drugged voice.

 “Why do you need to get up Ted”.

“Because I have to pee” he sluggishly replied.

 “Ted”, I said, “You already have a catheter on so just go ahead, you don’t need to go to the bathroom.”

 “Oh”, he said and he relieved himself where he stood. I called the nurse to help get him back in bed and it took two of them to untangle his tubes and sort everything back. He was very uncomfortable and said the mattress was making him miserable. It was not the mattress, but I agreed with him that it was not a good mattress. He was finally settled back in the bed and I thought that maybe he would make it through the night.

   At 1:00am, I heard him hit the floor again, just as before. We repeated the same dialogue and he was adamant that he needed to go to the bathroom. I called in reinforcements and the three of us got him back in the bed. At 3:00am he hit the floor a third time and was ready to take on anybody who interfered with his intentions. I knew he was in pain and under the influence of the sedatives. After tucking him back in the bed for the third time, the nurse put the side rails up to prevent him from leaping off the bed. I heard him hit the rails once more and then finally he eased off under the influence of a new dose of morphine.

   I remembered how difficult my first night away from the ICU had been. You honestly feel as if you have been run over by a large truck and nobody seems to understand how much it hurts, all over your body. Then comes the morning and you feel as if you are reborn. I told him that each day he would be better than the last, and this past night would be his worst.

   Fay relieved me for the day shift and he had a better day. He began eating and though he was very much in pain, he was able to walk a couple of times down the hallways. In the mean time, I had crashed at Ted’s home. I awoke to a new call from Georgia that Betty Joyce’s condition had deterioated and she was not expected to survive her renal failure. My heart was saddened, for Ted and I considered her to be like a sister. I had to make a decision on whether to go and be with her during her last hours. It was not a choice I wanted to make, but I decided to leave Ted and go to Georgia. Ted was recovering and all indications were that the surgery had been successful.

   Since my return flight was through Atlanta, Delta Airlines allowed me to change the date without a change fee. Instead of flying home on the following Tuesday, I would be going to Atlanta on Sunday afternoon. Unfortunately the luggage had to be shipped all the way to Greensboro, so I had to buy a large carry-on for the clothes I would need in Georgia. Cheryl would have to pick up a bag of dirty clothes at 10:15pm in Greensboro. But it worked out. Mendy, Dave and Kodi and the grandkids visited with Ted at the hospital that morning. I spent a wonderful Sunday afternoon with my children and grandchildren and then Mendy took me to the DFW airport for a 6:00 flight to Atlanta. I knew that Ted was recovering well and my heart was calling me to Betty Joyce. On Saturday before I left Texas, she was lucid when I called and I spoke to her briefly on the phone, I told her I loved her and she told me that she loved me. It was the last conversation we would have.

  

Ted and my grandson Joshua

             

Kodi,Chase, Dave, Maci, Me and Joshua on the TCU campus

                             

   Steve picked me up at the Atlanta Airport and drove me straight to the hospital. Betty was alive but unresponsive and struggling mightily. No one questioned whether she was ready to transition from this life to the next. She and Ralph were inseparable on this earth, it was just a matter of time for them to reunite and click up their heels on the streets of Heaven. But we weren’t ready to give her up yet. Steve and Joyce had vigilently awaited her bedside over the past several days for signs of recovery. Some of her renal numbers improved, but overall her health continued to deteriorate. They scheduled a session with the attending physicians to determine if the improved readings were reason to hope. The doctor explained that although some results were better, the overall prognosis had not changed. She was hanging on, but she would not be able to for long.

   My thoughts went back to childhood when this sweet young lady took care of me and played with me. She was full of joy, humility and shyness. Throughout our lives, Betty Joyce always cared for others. My mother had a special place for her and my brothers and I adopted her as our own sister. I don’t have a memory of her that isn’t a fond one. Over the years we were separated by many miles, but our hearts were of one accord and close to each other. I remembered that she came to Texas and took care of me and Ted and Dad when mother was dying from cancer. She had a servants heart and she had a sweet spirit to go with it.  Betty Joyce’s nickname was “Sweetie” and I can honestly say I never knew anyone more deserving.

   She met her knight in shining armour, Ralph, and she did have that family she hoped for. Steve was the oldest and Joyce followed to complete the circle. The years were good to them as their children had families of their own and she had her only grandson, Grant. And then cancer caught up with Ralph just a couple of years ago. His remains lay in the Hampton cemetery waiting for her’s to join him. She was ready to meet him and our Lord, we just had to have the faith to let her go to that reunion she planned in Heaven.

The doctor advised moving her to pallative care at a nearby hospice. We all gathered at the new facility after she was transported there. Steve and his wife stayed for the night while Joyce went home to try and catch up on rest from the previous night. In mid-morning I got a call from Steve to pick up Joyce and bring her to the hospice as soon as possible. By the time we arrived, Betty Joyce had parted with her earthly family and had already soared to new heights. We all grieved her passing, but none lost sight of the thought that our Sweetie had moved on to where she longed to be. I will be eternally grateful that Cheryl and I spent a warm day in February visiting with her and sharing her love.

Thankful that we spent a day with her in February

   She left us on her 82nd birthday, and her funeral service was on the following Saturday. Ted , of course, could not attend but Cheryl came down from Greensboro and joined me. Steve asked me to say a few words and I tried, through tears of joy, to express how special Betty Joyce had been to me. The service was eloquent and simple, honoring a dear saint who had blessed all of our lives. Chris and Steve both sang to honor her memory and I know that she was smiling down on them.  The message was just as she would have wanted, an evangelistic appeal to join her in Heaven. Hallelujah!

She tended Ralph's grave on a regular basis

Some of those left behind, the day we left to go home

As a planner, I had carefully determined all the things I needed to do to be with Ted. How many times do we start out with a plan and then realize that there was another purpose intended for us? I left home to be with my brother, who was about to travel down a road he did not want to go and I ended up going down a road I did not want to go. A greater need arose and I had to change my plans. Sometimes changes occur when you least expect them. Life is full of unexpected turns and twists that alter our best laid plans. We just have to be flexible enough to understand when we need to change.

I wanted to be there for both of them and in my heart I know that I was there for both of them. Ted and Fay know that I love my brother and Steve and Joyce know that I loved my sister.