Five years has passed since a young lady, very dear to my heart, had a brush with death. As I sit here this morning her story comes to mind… which has prompted me sharing my thoughts of that time once again with you…. One must never take a day for granted.
7.17.16
The preceding fortnight seems to have passed in a whirlwind of activity. Young friend Tanya Barker, granddaughter of my dear aunty Kay, was visiting us from England. Her time on the farm was sprinkled with events ranging from being a grand saleslady at farmer’s markets to learning how to make mozzarella to trundling around the countryside in what transpired into a 1700-mile road trip! Days slipped by and before we knew it, her holiday was at an end with me driving her to the Redmond airport yesterday to see her safely checked in and on her way home.
As is the case when you have someone vising you from far away, our pre-arranged plans for the fortnight Tanya would be staying with us had been filled with trips around the countryside and a jaunt over to Portland with pal Lynda. It was the perfect opportunity to have Tanya visit the downtown area of this, our largest city, Lynda would head off for her doctor appointment while Tanya and I would explore the busy downtown shops. We would then meet up later on, go out for a nice dinner by the river where we would celebrate Tanya’s birthday, spend the night before heading off home the following day. Yes, this would be a good plan, as normally I would never think of a jaunt to Portland, visiting guests or not!
Monday arrived and the day was planned out. Tanya would accompany me to Spray that afternoon where I was going to teach an EMT class to the local ambulance volunteers. The next morning would begin our jaunt to Portland with us picking Lynda up bright and early at six o’clock in the morning. Before heading to Spray, I had to drop off some cheese at the orchard fruit stand and was going to pop my head in the door of Lynda’s house to remind her of the departure time next morning. But in a blink of an eye all our plans changed.
As I pulled up to the house, Lynda’s son Jeffrey was standing by the door beckoning to me, his face a chalky white. My first thought was that his wife Laura, very pregnant and imminently ready to give birth, was in labour in the house… I did NOT especially want to be a mid-wife if possible! But as I got closer I realized it was not Laura who was having a medical emergency but his dear sister Lorraine. Lynda was on the telephone speaking with a nurse at the hospital in John Day, tears rolling down her face, Jeffrey filled me in on what had just transpired and dread filled my heart and soul when I heard the news… Lorraine was thought to have suffered a massive hemorrhagic stroke. She was unconscious unresponsive, had been intubated and a CT scan revealed a massive bleed in her brain. She was going to be flown to St. Charles hospital in Bend and would arrive there around six o’clock that night.
Lynda was in a right stew, there was no way she could postpone her appointment in Portland as her chemotherapy treatments were rigorously scheduled and must be strictly adhered to. I would take her to Portland the following morning as planned but it broke my heart to see her pain at not being able to be with her daughter. Tanya and I left and headed off down the road but barely a mile from the house I thought: “What am I doing!” I turned the car around, headed back to Lynda’s house and firmly stated I would take her to Bend where she could be at Lorraine’s side. I would then drive her from Bend to Portland the next day for her treatment, returning her to Bend that same night. A mother needs to be by her daughter. Jeff was waiting for his father John to arrive home from a road trip, so he would take John to Bend and I would take Lynda. A quick dash back home for Tanya and I to grab our overnight bag and relay the news to a stunned Darrell, and we were off.
That night was quite a sleepless one for the family and for myself. When Lynda, Tanya and I arrived at St. Charles hospital, I accompanied Lynda into the surgical waiting area where John, Jeffrey and Lorraine’s husband Bryan all sat… waiting. Lorraine was undergoing brain surgery to staunch the bleeding and hopefully remove a huge blood clot deep in her brain that had caused the brain to actually shift a full one and a half centimeters to the side. She was in critical condition and the anguish on Bryan’s face spoke volumes. I left the family to their private vigil, heading to a local motel where I booked a room for Tanya and I as well as one for Lynda, John and Jeff… knowing Bryan would not leave Lorraine’s side once she was out of surgery.
As I lay in bed, unable to sleep as my mind was a whirl of images of this precious daughter of my best friend, my little telephone rang and it was Lynda, letting me know the surgery was over. The surgeon had controlled the bleeding and subsequently removed the clot and Lorraine had been moved to the Intensive Care Unit where she would likely remain for some time. What wonderful news.
Yet as I lay in bed that night, my mind thought so much about this special young lady who I have known for nigh on twenty-four years. Images of her at our farm during the 4-H vet science classes I held, her tall willowy frame amongst the group of fellow classmates. The day during class I was lancing an abscess on Debbie Cole’s little Yorkshire terrier and Lorraine fainted… yes I know Lorraine, it was not seeing the abscess lanced that did it but the heat of the day and you not drinking enough water! Watching this young girl turn into a successful, professional young woman. Her marriage and the coming of their first child and the forming of her own little family. The way she plopped her second baby into my arms, knowing of my secret desire to have been a mother myself, understanding my dread of holding tiny newborn babies yet trusting me with her little bundle as tears coursed down my face. Seeing her in my EMT classes, her cool control on ambulance runs, her precise nature of needing to know not just “how” but “why”, her perfection in all she does.
Yes, as I lay in bed that night I thought of my Lorraine, the person who at times is akin to a little sister yet towers over me and often appears so much older than she really is. I find I never pray for myself but often speak to God for others. That night I asked Him to hold her close to His heart, wrap His loving arms around her and protect her, then I spoke directly to Lorraine. I reminded her how strong she is, how loved she is and how she will overcome this bump in the road placed before her. I talk to God and to Lorraine each night…
The next day I took Lynda to her appointment in Portland. Tanya and I tootled around the downtown area before collecting Lynda at six o’clock that evening and driving off towards Bend. The constant updates by telephone from the hospital were promising; Lorraine was still hanging in there. When we finally arrived in Bend and Tanya dropped off outside the motel, Lynda and I headed to the hospital to look in on her daughter. We were allowed back to the I.C.U. room and there was our girl, head swathed in bandages, tubes, IV’s and monitors everywhere, the left side of her face swollen and the left eye swollen shut, her right side paralyzed. She heard her mother’s voice and her right eye popped opened, her left arm reaching out in mute appeal. She was awake. Before we left, I spoke to her, gently touched her face and saw intelligence and “my Lorraine” staring at me through her open eye.
The following morning, before we left Bend, I drove John and Lynda to the hospital; Lynda so she could remain with Bryan by Lorraine’s side and John so he could say cheerio to Lorraine before accompanying Tanya and I back home so he could tend to the family business. After John had visited the ICU, I was able to go back to see how Lorraine was faring. Her eyes were open and as I looked at her my heart swelled! There she was, frustrated I am sure at not being able to speak, but to me her eyes spoke volumes! Bryan filled me in on all that had transpired during the surgery and subsequent examinations and scans. It was grand news! There was still a long way to go but already Lorraine’s tenacity was showing through.
Yesterday I took Tanya back to Redmond for her long flight home. After seeing her safely checked in I headed off to Bend to St. Charles where I was to pick Lynda up and bring her back home to Kimberly for a day before she would return to be with Lorraine. As I went up to the third floor where Lorraine had been transferred too from the ICU, earlier than they anticipated, I was still picturing the fragile form I had seen just a few days previous. I knew her bandages had been removed and from Bryan’s family updates I knew Lorraine had been making some remarkable progress but I was totally unprepared for what I saw when I tentatively opened the door.
There was my beautiful young friend, head shorn of its fine hair, staples and scars showing where the surgeon had dauntlessly entered that vital part of her body, but most of all a beaming smile as her eyes found mine! My resolve to NOT cry failed me, tears rolled down my face as I looked at her and she gazed at me. Tears flowed again as Bryan proudly told me of her latest accomplishments, showing me the writing on a small white board the words she had written to him. I had brought a bar of my handmade soap for her as well as a couple of tubs of my lip balm for her poor, dry lips. To see her manage to unscrew the lid off the little tub, more importantly, use her right finger to remove some balm then transfer it to her left hand before placing it on her lips… well I cannot find the words to express how I felt. But the best was yet to come. Looking deep into my eyes, with tears in her own, she softly whispered the words “Thank you!” I doubt I will ever hear those words without feeling such a sense of thankfulness again.
Although a long road of recovery may lie ahead, there is no doubt in my mind this strong young lady with her determination, perseverance and family love surrounding her, will be walking down the auditorium aisle with her excited little girl Kassidy at her side, Lynda and I following behind as we find our seats this December for the Christmas time performance of the “Nutcracker Ballet” in Portland. I will look at the lovely, tall young lady sitting beside me and as the opening bars of the beautiful music fills the hall, I will say a quiet prayer of thanks. Life can change in a blink of an eye, let us live each day to the fullest.
