Splat

I’m writing this blog from the intensive care unit of Victoria Hospital in Cancun, Mexico, where my wife, Laurie, is out of the room, having multiple tests done to find out the cause and cure for her stroke. I’m sitting here alone listening to ICU machines making crickets sounds. If you read the last blog, posted in Portland, it was titled “Casting Off.” I wasn’t sure what to call this one since we don’t appear to be “casting” anymore, or at least not with the same exuberance. So, I’ll leave it untitled until one presents itself.
It happened at 2:30 in the morning on our first night here. I heard her cry out and found her on the floor, having collapsed—her entire left side of her body had turned numb as novacane. 9-11, and the ambulance rushed us to a state-run hospital. Not our choice, but it’s where the paramedics took us. State- run hospitals make the American VA hospitals look like the Mayo Clinic.
I first realized that we were in the wrong place when the wheelchair had only one usable footrest and the left wheel slanted at a perilous angle. Most of the blood was from men who obviously got the worst of it in knock-down fights. Thrashing about in the hallway on their gurneys; no one was in a hurry to clean up the splatter. Oh, I’m sorry, you’re reading a travel blog from Cancun and you were looking for hot bodies on the beach that say, “How cool are we?” You wouldn’t really want to see our bodies, anywhere, but we’ll eventually get to the beach.
So, we caught a $600 ambulance ride to a private hospital, where they not only knew how to insert a proper IV but had real equipment and medicine to meet the crisis. That was two days ago and there’s been little physical progress, as I await her return from the MRI. Lack of blood flow to the right side of her brain apparently killed some cells that operate the left side of her body. Fortunately, her face muscles were not affected and she still has a beautiful smile.
This was not the trip we planned: snorkeling in Cozumel, sunsets on the beach, but it’s what we got, and for a reason, which I will explain later when God shows me. But I already have some ideas.
They allowed me to move into her room. With the price we’re paying, it’s the least they could do, but there’s no mini-fridge or microwave and you have to wash out your laundry in the sink. But there’s good AC and I can be close to Laurie. But the next night the hospital filled up and so they accommodated me across the street at the Hacienda Hotel, and thanks to a God-send Christian nurse named Lucy, 20180406_103521 (1)the hospital paid for the first two nights. There have been other angels along the way in this crisis, who aren’t getting their proper due.

So, in order to keep this from being a depressive blog post, let me just say I already see some of God’s hand in allowing this to happen. One: Our family, back in Oregon and Arizona, are praying and texting several times a day. We have good relationships with them, but never this must loving contact. That is good. And friends we haven’t heard from for a while are texting and praying as well. Our youngest daughter, Abby, texted, “Mom, you better get out of that hospital and on the beach soon. I love you so much, and I believe you will recover. Your mind is strong.” Another daughter, Rachel said, “I love you, the kids and I are praying all the time. I’ll get on the plane in a minute and come down there if you need anything.” Being a nurse, she spoke personally to the neurosurgeon and requested all the medical records to make sure the doctors were doing everything right.
Two: Laurie and I came here for change, and there is no doubt that this will change us. Who said change was easy? especially at our age? For all the stress, panic, worry, tears, and what ifs? I know good things will come from all of this. One of my favorite scriptures: Jeremiah 29: “For I now the plans I have for you, plans to bless you, to give you a future and a hope.” And “All things work together for good for those who are called in Christ Jesus.”
I asked her, “Are you afraid of death?” She said she never thought of it. She believes it was everyone’s prayers that gave her the peace of God instead of panic. And then she said she was glad this had happened. She said this while I was hoisting her, hopping on her good foot and clinging to me on the way to the bathroom. And I will tell you why she said that in the next blog.
I can’t wait to get Laurie back, I mean all the way. God is good, many are praying, we covet yours as well.