Zero Hour

I didn’t go to the Stephenson Center last Friday to have my CVC flushed. Instead, after the postponement of my admission on Tuesday due to the positive enterovirus (EV) test results, I decided to gather up a few bags and head home to see John, Keifer, and my cats on Wednesday. I wanted to write about the trip home, but time got away from me. Suffice it to say that it was wonderful being home, if only for a few days, and I hated to leave.

I headed out yesterday around 7:30 in the morning for the first leg of the trip, but this time, I intended to stop along the way to spend the night. Originally I had planned on staying in a hotel, but I had such a foreboding feeling about it that I texted my sister on Sunday and asked if she thought her sister- and brother-in-law, Melanie and Stanley, who live near Conway, Arkansas, would mind if I spent the night at their house. She called them to make sure and minutes later told me they had a room ready and waiting for me.

I can tell you that the foreboding feeling was something new to me. I have done a lot of traveling and I love road trips. But I was almost always with someone, even when it was just me and my sons. In recent years, my late husband and I were always together for road trips as well as diving trips to Panama City Beach or to the Caribbean. I didn’t realize until my stay in Longview, Texas on the way to Oklahoma City on Mother’s Day weekend how uncomfortable I would feel traveling alone and especially toting my bags into a hotel room, onto an elevator, and down a hallway to a room by myself. I didn’t sleep very well, and I felt a nervous anxiety the whole time. I have known Melanie and Stanley for many years and seen them at various family get togethers, most recently, at my nephew’s wedding in Tulsa where we shared a table at the reception. They have always been so warm and friendly, and I’m so glad I thought of them last Sunday night. In spite of the short notice, they welcomed me graciously, shared their dinner with me, and we chatted in their living room until I excused myself to ready for bed. I’m sure they have no idea the burden of anxiety they lifted from my heart, and I am so very grateful for their hospitality.

This morning I left there in light but steady rainfall and headed west on I-40 towards Alma, where I met another old and dear friend, Janet, who was my neighbor all those years ago when I lived in Fayetteville. We rendezvoused at the Cracker Barrel for breakfast. Oh, my goodness, we could have talked for hours! Our server had to come back twice to get our order because we couldn’t stop talking long enough to look at the menu and decide what we wanted. It was so good to see her and catch up a little bit, but we really only scratched the surface. I’m hoping she might be able to come to Oklahoma City to visit me at OU Medical while I’m there.

Speaking of OU Medical, I drove straight there after breakfast with Janet, arriving in downtown around 1:45 this afternoon. In an earlier email to Nancy, the transplant coordinator, I had indicated I would be there by 3 o’clock, so I was eager to let her know I had arrived early. I knew she would contact me when she had information for me. Nevertheless, I drove into the parking garage at the Stephenson Cancer Center and pulled into a spot on Level 1A, where I promptly sent her an email telling her I was in Oklahoma City and awaiting her direction. Minutes later she called and told me I could go straight to the 2nd floor to get my nose swab done for the Covid/EV test, and that I had a 4 o’clock appointment in the infusion clinic to have my CVC flushed and bandage changed.

“If you’d like to go to the infusion clinic after you have the nose swab done, they might be able to work you in sooner for the CVC flush,” she told me.

And that’s just the way it worked out. I was in and out of there within 20 minutes after the Covid/EV swab and with a freshly flushed and bandaged CVC. I felt relieved, but I also felt anxious at the same time because Nancy also told me that, with any luck, we’d have the test results back in the morning, and I would be admitted shortly after.

While I was writing this post, I got a call from Misty at OU Medical who told me to call them when I wake up in the morning to see about the status of an available bed for me. In my head I was thinking, Maybe I’ll sleep until noon tomorrow! I know they will need to have the results of my test today, and Nancy told me she hoped to have it by tomorrow morning. So, while I don’t know what time I might be leaving for the hospital, it seems very likely my admission will happen tomorrow.

I don’t know when I will have a chance to write and let you know what’s happening, but I will as soon as I can. I am not excited. On the contrary, I am filled with apprehension and doubt. It’s difficult for me to deal with this kind of emotion, and it’s hard to explain why. Part of me feels ashamed because I feel weak and like my faith is shallow. God has blessed my life in so many ways. He has never failed me. Why would He fail me now? I think about Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane and the agony He felt. Nothing I am about to endure can compare to what He suffered, and yet, I am so filled with dread. My thoughts have been prayerful today as I drove in the rain. The chill in the air that greeted me when I arrived in Oklahoma City hasn’t helped. It has been gray and dreary since I got here. How I wish I were at home with Samson snuggled next to me sleeping, and with my head leaning on John’s strong shoulder, his arm around me reassuringly.

I’m going to sign off for now and prepare a few last-minute things in the big, wheeled duffel bag I plan to roll into the hospital with me tomorrow. When I think about what it will be like pulling that bag into the hospital along with my Scuba Pro backpack containing my laptop, I know it will appear as though I am a tourist entering a hotel lobby for a stay at a resort, but that is the farthest thing from the actual reality of it, and I can’t pretend otherwise. I also can’t pretend I’m not afraid. I can only pray for the comfort of the Holy Spirit and that it won’t be as bad as I think it’s going to be.

I love you all and I covet your prayers.

Kelly