After posting my LwL entry and updating on Facebook (FB) for a short while, I tried to relax enough to go to sleep.
For many hours, it didn't happen. All I could think about was my daughter, receiving blood transfusions, without knowing what was causing her to bleed out.
Believe me when I say, I prayed. Of course, I prayed for her, but you should know that I also prayed for you, for all my friends, both in real-life and cyber-life.
I prayed, asking God to give me rest. It seemed I just couldn't rest at all, until well after 1:00 a.m. This was the time, two years ago, when I arrived home on the Saturday of Thanksgiving weekend, after Gordon had been prounounced dead.
Monday, is the actual date of my husband's death, but I know that for the rest of my life, I will always be haunted by what happened and how his life support was removed, causing his death at 12:30 a.m. on Thanksgiving weekend's Saturday morning.
My mind raced with thoughts of what would happen to my daughter, if she were to die. All I could do after praying, was give it to God; I didn't want to think about this, at all, considering she has three (3) sons, and is a single parent, now.
Thoughts came to mind of conversation P and I had while she was receiving the first (1st) blood transfusion.
I was rather upset that P hadn't been admitted, so the hospital could do tests to determine where she was bleeding out from, before it became even more life-threatening than this situation already was. She responded that someone had told her that in order to be admitted, most people spend about three (3) days in ER, before they have a bed for them, upstairs.
My mind flashed back to 1988, and how my dad had gone to a hospital in Toronto, where his doctor worked from, when he was ill. How dad had spent three (3) days in ER there, until they finally found him a bed. I suppose they had to at that time, considering he suffered a heart attack, right there while awaiting being admitted to hospital. I could feel my adrenaline flowing, just recalling how within two (2) weeks, he was dead.
All on Thanksgiving weekend. My dad. Gordon. Patti. In any case, even through my tears, I gave it all to my Lord, bringing the pain and sorrow to Jesus, at the foot of the cross.
It was after 2:00 a.m., before I finally rested enough to drift off to sleep. My alarm went off about 2:45 a.m. Once again, I battled with myself, but this time, it was about getting up! I was absolutely exhausted. Physically and emotionally.
By the time I stopped at Tim Horton's to pick up coffee for P and handed it to her at her ER bedside, it was 3:55 a.m.
Even though she had been disconnected from all equipment, she couldn't yet leave, as the latest blood report hadn't yet returned. Finally, it arrived; her hemoglobin level had risen to about 90, from what she was told. This is still low, but better than the 68 she had, before the transfusions of 2 units of blood.
Enroute to home, P was physically sick. Literally. Never was I more thankful, than when she entered her home to rest. I praised God for taking care of her. For providing for her need.
Thank you, to those who prayed for P. I appreciate your prayer, more than you know. Since she is not yet healed and will require further tests and treatment, please continue praying. Thank you. May God bless you.
All the way home, I praised God, and after arriving home close to 6:00 a.m. I continued thanking Him for all He does. For all He is. For all He will always be.
Sound strange, considering the the whole emotional roller coaster I have been on, lately? Maybe so. But, God did tell us that in all things, we need to be thankful (1 Thessalonians 5:18). And, I am...
Until next time...
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