Hello everyone! This blog entry will be a little
different. I’m Mike, Chessie's husband,
and I've hijacked her blog today to write about a pretty huge event/obstacle in
our lives recently. For all our friends
and family, these are the details for what has been a bit cloudy in our posts
on FB. This promises to be long-winded
but there’s a point to it.
First of all, my
story is not as tough as some have experienced, but I felt I needed to get my
testimony out. I have had a continuing medical issue for
about 7 years. In 2014 it began causing
more problems, culminating in a trip to the ER in November that caused me to
miss two weeks of work. So the doctors
and I decided it was time to schedule a surgery to remove the part of my
intestine causing the problem. On January 6th, my wife and I packed a hospital bag, since I was told I’d have to stay
for 3-4 days. Extra clothes, toiletries,
a book, cellphone charger and… Cookie.
Cookie is a doll
that belonged to my daughter Makayla from the time she was 4. At the time, her mother, Celena, and I had already
divorced. However, Celena and I were
both active duty Air Force and stationed here in Hawaii. When Makayla was 6, her mom got orders to
change station to the mainland. I knew
this was coming but it was very hard for me, knowing that I’d only get to see
my daughter for the summers. Makayla
gave me her favorite doll, Cookie, and filled it with hugs, so that I could get
a hug from my daughter anytime I needed it.
It’s a tradition that we have had for years, and she still "refills"
Cookie with fresh hugs when she visits, 10 years later. It sounds silly, but I will fight you over
that doll. Don’t test me.
Being prepped for the first surgery.
So I had the surgery
on the 6th as planned, which the doctors said was a great
success. I seemed to be recovering quickly and they
decide to discharge me a couple days later.
However, right before Chessie arrived to take me home, I started feeling…
not so great. My symptoms included a
resting heart-rate of 140 and a temp of 103.
Needless to say, there was much fussing over me that night. I was moved to the ICU, but the doctors
assured me that it was just because they didn't have anywhere else for me at
that moment and they wanted to keep a little closer eye on me.
Over the next two
days, I had lots of tests done on me.
Urine, blood, x-rays, CT scans, all of which came back negative. My condition didn't improve. These two days were the scariest of my
life. Something was wrong with me, and
the doctors couldn't figure out what. The
doctors tried to be reassuring but Chessie and I saw worry in their eyes every
time they came in. How long could my
heart handle beating at 130-140 beats a minute?
At what point do the doctors exhaust all their options? My daughter, my mom and dad, people I would
want to see if I were leaving this world were all so far away. At the same time I was terrified for my new
wife. Could she be a widow less than a
year into our marriage?
Nonetheless, Chessie
and I would hold hands, pray with the chaplain, talk (when I wasn't passing out
from exhaustion and narcotic painkillers), and pass the time while we waited
for the doctors to do another test or give us some news. I also almost completely emptied Cookie of
her supply of Makayla's hugs.
Cookie!
On the third day,
the doctors told me that the only thing they could do at this point was an
exploratory surgery. This was terrifying
because Chessie was on her way to see me and I didn't really get any
notice. They said they were taking me
back to operate and the only thing I could do was text my wife that I was about
to go into surgery and hand my phone to the nurse to put away. When I woke up, Chessie was there. The doctors told me they had found the
problem and fixed it. A "nick" in my
intestine caused by withdrawal of the surgical robot arm thingy after the first
surgery. Apparently the "nick" was about
4 inches long and caused intestinal waste to spill into the abdominal cavity,
which is what was causing my problems.
My biggest incision. It's looking MUCH better now.
I immediately started getting better. I improved a little every day. All the while, my wife and Cookie standing
vigil at my side. And at night, when
Chessie went home, the lights were out and the hospital was quiet, except the
beeping of IV pumps, and the occasional nurse who would come in to shove a
fresh needle into me somewhere, I would talk to God. It was a comfort, at a time in my life when
comfort was very scarce. It wasn't until
I began improving that the doctors validated our worries and told us how
serious the situation had become. One of
my doctors told me she was "very very worried", and Chessie and I saw her eyes
well up with tears for a moment.
The first time we were able to cuddle after more than a week.
Fifteen days after I
checked into the hospital, I finally got to return home with the love of my
life. There was the pain of a very large
incision and it was very unnerving to not have the medical care close by if I
needed it… But it was home. Now, as I
write this, I’m getting a little stronger and feeling better every day. I have a bit of a road ahead of me,
especially as far as stamina. 15 days in
a hospital bed doesn't do much for your cardio.
In the Air Force, we
talk a lot about "resilience". It’s the
topic of lots of briefings that no one wants to go to. It’s a fancy term for the pillars we use to
get through tough times in our lives.
Religion, family, community, friends, hobbies, anything that you can
lean when the going gets tough. I work
in a field with a lot of brilliant people.
It seems in our small community that religion is often not a popular
belief, and I know a lot of people who don’t put stock in things that they
can’t see and touch.
I guess the reason I felt compelled to write this post, is
that I think everyone should believe in something. Sure, believing in God isn't fashionable or
logical in the minds of some. But
believe in something. Fate, karma,
positive thoughts, whatever can get you through the tough times. For my ordeal, I had my wife, and I had my
faith, and I CHOSE to believe that hugging a silly little doll somehow
connected me to my daughter thousands of miles away. If I hadn't had those pillars, I would have
crumbled. Allow yourself to put faith in
something greater than yourself now.
Build and maintain those pillars of strength so they are there when you
need them.
Today I am flying
alone to Tucson to buy gemstones and minerals, the raw materials I use in my passion
of creating wire sculpture jewelry. This
is a trip that I planned back in November.
I know that without God, my amazing wife, and a silly little rag doll
named Cookie that I would not be able to go.