Just a Little Too Close to Death For My Liking
One more thing happened this last week while we were waiting to determine if pregnancy 5 was a chemical pregnancy. It was a wonderful distraction during our fleeting 48 hour chemical pregnancy. That said, it was a completely horrible event, but it was at least something to focus on that wasn’t the possibility of a chemical pregnancy and another miscarriage. In some ways I know it made this one easier, because it was simply more important to focus on the other event. It mattered more than any of my worries.
The event was also an important reminder about the fleeting moments in life, and just how precious our time is. We simply don’t know what is going to happen next. We all need to remember to cherish the moments, make the most of what we do have and live to our fullest.
It was late one evening – we had just gotten home from dinner with some family. Someone knocked at our door, we both rolled our eyes and said “really, at this hour?” My husband answered, it was our neighbour’s daughter who doesn’t live at home.
Our neighbours are amazing, a little overbearing at times, but amazing none-the-less. I would guess they are mid to late 60s. Their daughter is about 30 and doesn’t live at home. His wife is away on a road trip with a girlfriend, without a cell phone.
The daughter said very urgently to my husband, My Dad fell, I need your help carrying him to the car. We need to get to the hospital. She’s a tiny little thing, so there is no way she can carry him.
I’m still oblivious in a different room watching TV. My husband yells up to me, as he runs to put shoes on, moving at mock speed. I go put on some real clothes, I know I don’t have to be super speedy, my husband is pretty calm, he will clearly be doing the heavy lifting and he’s trained in first aid.
When I get over to their house, I can hear our neighbour and my husband talking in the bedroom. He sounds lucid, but not quite right. I wait at the front door to hold the door open and clear a path for them to walk through.
They turn the corner, walking arm and arm. My husband clearly doing most of the work. The daughter is fighting back tears. I can tell, it’s a lot worse then just a fall. It’s not good. It’s really not good.
The man is yellow. I kid you not, yellow!
And that’s just the beginning of the problems.
A few steps outside, and his legs stop working, he’s done. My husband is now holding him up and puts him on a conveniently located bench on the front porch. We clearly cannot drive him to the hospital ourselves, this situation is beyond our basic first aid training and requires immediate medical attention. I run back home, grab my cell phone and call 911, because for the first time in what seems like years, I didn’t have my cell phone with me. I know the address, so it’s an easy task for me to take on.
My husband starts monitoring vital signs, asking questions, all the while holding him up and trying to provide comfort. The neighbour has forgotten some details – he no longer knows who we are, but he still knows his daughter. We learn that he is peeing blood. He fell a day earlier and doesn’t remember the fall or much else. The whites of his eyes are also yellow. His heart rate and pulse are slow. His leg is swollen, his skin is molded and blotchy, but not itchy.
The fire truck and ambulance arrive. They take over, and do a great job! They stabilize him in the back of the ambulance. They rush him to the hospital.
We return home. There is no sleep to be had for either of us. It’s a long night.
We find out in the morning from the daughter, he is in ICU. His organs are all shutting down. They think it’s some sort of blood disorder, but they cannot figure it out. They don’t yet know the cause. They don’t yet know how to treat him.
We continue to wait. We will see what happens. Our hands are tied – we will do anything possible to help, but for now, the doctors will do their jobs, and we will wait and hope.
We hope he makes it.
We desperately hope he makes it.