Lashed By Storms

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version,

A Rough Time

Honor your father and your mother, as the LORD your God commanded you, that your days may be long, and that it may go well with you in the land that the LORD your God is giving you. Deuteronomy 5:16

  When Anne woke up Saturday, August 4, 2012, she couldn’t get out of bed. Something was wrong—but what? She tried reaching for Mike, but he was at work.

  “My right side was numb and my face felt funny. My eyes didn’t want to focus. I was willing my body to do things, and my body wasn’t responding. I tried moving closer to the edge of the bed and realized my balance was off. I was scared—I didn’t know what was wrong. My right hand wasn’t working—I fumbled for the phone to call Mike.

  “Anne, I’m having trouble understanding you,” said Mike.

  “I tried again to tell him what was wrong.”

  “Hang on,” he said, “while I use another phone to call for help.”

            “I could hear bits and pieces of his conversation with someone else. Then I heard Mike’s voice telling me an ambulance was on its way.”

Tests and More Tests

            Once Anne was in the emergency room, doctors didn’t waste time. They ran lots of tests—hoping the results would indicate the cause for her numbness so they could begin appropriate treatment.

  Their patient was alert and responding appropriately to questions, but her speech was definitely slurred. The right side of her body wasn’t responding well to the traditional stimuli used to determine the degree of numbness. Anne soon became impatient with all the questions and all the testing.

     “As doctors continued scrambling to isolate the cause of what they were telling me looked like a stroke, I realized my numbness was easing. My face slowly began to feel normal. And when I realized my speech wasn’t so slurred, I wanted out of ER immediately.

     “Would someone please give me my cell phone so I can call my friend to come pick me up?” she asked.

  “I remember the look an ER doc threw me—indicating I was crazy. I was informed no one was ready to sign discharge papers. Doctors said just a few more tests—then perhaps I could go home.

  “A nurse was sympathetic—she brought my purse and I used my cell phone to text my friend, JoAnne. She was visiting, and had stayed behind with my boys. She knew they would be worried about me.

  “Before they signed discharge papers, doctors said my heart was in good shape, and they had found no signs of bleeding. I was relieved, but there had to be some reason for what had happened.

  “I was initially annoyed, and then somewhat scared, when one of the doctors explained that a CT scan showed a mass near my right eye. I was told I’d need to follow up with a neurologist and an ophthalmologist. I promised ER docs I’d follow up on Monday. I just wanted out of there.

  “I believed my being admitted wouldn’t change anything. I figured that any necessary treatment could just as easily be done on an outpatient basis. I had had enough of hospitals and mergency rooms. With each passing year, I was more reluctant to visit an emergency room, even when others thought it would be best.

  “The same nurse who had brought me my cell phone, informed me JoAnne and my boys were waiting for me. Even with my friend staying, there were things I wanted to do for my forty-eighth birthday celebration that night.”

     “As it turned out, the day’s events had worn me out, and I had no energy to celebrate.”

Anne’s Follow-up with a Specialist

  Anne followed up with a neurologist, who confirmed what the scan showed. She was then referred to an ophthalmologist. That doctor, after reviewing records and examining Anne’s eye, said her situation required care beyond his expertise, and referred her to a more specialized ophthalmologist in Denver. There was some type of mass behind her right eye, possibly a lymphoma. Further testing would be done to determine if the mass was malignant. If so, surgery and possibly additional follow-up treatment would be necessary.

     “It was a scary time for us. I had to wonder if I would lose my vision, or worse. Mike and I prayed for this to turn out well, for me to keep my vision, and for there to be no malignancy. I had done all I could do. Now, we had to wait for results.”

Another Scare

  It had been three weeks since Anne’s birthday. That Saturday morning, Mike had gone to work, Anne was busy in the house, and the boys were outside. Noah was using a power washer to clean up vehicles, including his dad’s tractor. He had shut the power washer off, and stepped into the house for a drink. Before he could take a second sip of water, Aaron’s blood curdling scream sent him and his mother running out the door.

  The two found Aaron on the ground, his left foot bleeding profusely. The power washer hose was twisting in snake-like fashion in the air. Instinctively, Noah ran and shut the washer off. He couldn’t believe his brother had turned the machine on.

            “Aaron’s bare foot was covered in dirt and rocks and when I looked closer, the back part of his foot was almost separated from the front half. I ran in the house and grabbed several towels. Noah helped me wrap Aaron’s foot just tight enough to slow the bleeding. Noah picked Aaron up from the back, under his shoulders, and I grabbed hold of his legs. Together we managed to get him in the back seat of the car. Once we had him in the car, Noah sat in back with him, applying pressure to his brother’s ankle. I hit the road. We made it in record time to the emergency room I thought best for Aaron’s situation—a situation I knew was serious.”

            Medics placed Aaron on a gurney and whisked him into the labyrinth of emergency room hustle and bustle. Anne followed the gurney, and Noah headed to the waiting room. As a doctor’s kid, he knew the protocol.

  “I could see for myself just how deeply the power washer had pushed dirt and debris into Aaron’s tissue,”Anne said.“Things looked nasty. And I wasn’t happy with what the physician assistants (PA’s) were doing. I could see there was lots more debris that needed to be cleaned out of Aaron’s foot—and one of the PA’s was getting ready to suture.”

Anne said she wanted to scream. She asked for x-rays to determine whether all the dirt and rocks had been removed. The PA’s were clearly annoyed. They didn’t appreciate non-medical personnel dictating medical care. More than anything, they disliked doctor’s wives. Anne knew this. Doctor’s wives get a reputation, because they know more than most patients or family members who come to the ER. And now, here was a doctor’s wife telling them how to do their job.

     “I asked to speak with a surgeon. My gut was telling me Aaron’s wound needed greater attention. My requests were ignored. I was told, in a condescending tone, that my little boy was going to be just fine. I grumbled under my breath the entire time it took to suture Aaron’s foot.

            “Three days after we got Aaron home, his temperature spiked to 107 degrees, and he became septic. What had been a localized infection had now spread. We almost lost him on the way to the ER. Surgeons there performed life-saving surgery. It was, to say the least, a harrowing event. It was also a clearly, well-documented malpractice case.

  “The next morning, with Aaron still in critical condition, I received a call from my ophthalmologist. Yes, there was a tumor involving the lacrimal gland behind my right eye. The tumor had been responsible for my stroke. It might be malignant, and I was told I needed surgery immediately. I didn’t know if I would lose my vision. If the situation were extreme, I could lose my entire eye.

  “We called Grandma Rainy. She was able to make an overnight flight into Denver. We knew, particularly with Mike’s work schedule, that we would need her help. Our stress level was high.”

  The morning following Aaron’s surgery to save his foot, Mike and Anne left Rainy with him, in his hospital room, and drove over an hour to the Denver hospital for Anne’s eye surgery.

  “I didn’t want to be in surgery for my eye; I wanted to be at the same hospital as our son”.

  The tumor proved difficult to get to without directly impacting Anne’s eyesight. When she came out of surgery, she learned it had been necessary to remove the lacrimal gland, the gland responsible for creating tears and keeping eyes moist. Emotionally, I would have to hold my breath until we learned results of the biopsy. Mike and I knew the possibility of cancer existed. We didn’t want to think about what that could mean for my future.

  “When results came from pathology, we learned the tumor wasn’t malignant. Rather, I had a benign tumor called a Pleomorphic Adenoma, which could, in time, become cancerous. Initial results indicated that the tumor had been completely removed. We were relieved, and offered our thanks to God for this news.

  “Although I was concerned for myself, my greatest concern was for my son.”

Caring for Aaron

  Aaron was gravely ill. Doctors had to put in a PICC line. When he was finally released from the hospital, he was sent home on intravenous antibiotics and a Wound VAC, short for wound vacuum. This is a special dressing connected to a small vacuum pump—a constant vacuum on the wound helps with the healing process.

  “Aaron’s situation was critical—he had come close to dying. Rainy was busy taking care of us both, but once my surgeon gave the okay, I took over more of his care. Our youngest son, an active teenager, was told he couldn’t put any pressure on his injured foot. His treatment involved the administration of two different antibiotics—one of them three times a day, and the other, two times each day. We set alarms for reminders.

  “A visiting nurse came every other day to re-supply Aaron with antibiotics, and to flush his PICC line. She would also make sure his wound vac was working properly. That was a challenge, since part of the injured area extended between Aaron’s toes. There were times his wound dressing had to be adjusted. There needed to be an airtight seal for the vacuum to work properly. Over time the need for her visits became less frequent.”

  When Mike wasn’t working, he would help with Aaron’s care. When Aaron rested, his dad continued studying for the test to renew his medical license.

A Second Surgery

  “Just when it seemed we had gotten into some semblance of a routine caring for Aaron, I got a call from my surgeon, saying I needed a second surgery—final indications were that not all of the tumor had been removed—they hadn’t gotten clear margins. A biopsy of the area showed it was ready to go malignant. Not having surgery wasn’t an option. I was thankful Rainy hadn’t left for home.”

  The biopsy following Anne’s second eye surgery indicated the necessity of a third surgery to get clear margins. Only then would her ophthalmologist be comfortable assuring Anne they had gotten all the tumor.

  “I was so thankful I still had my vision and my eye,” Anne said.

A Call from the Hospital

            Aaron’s lack of proper care in the emergency room immediately following his accident had a long-term impact. Mike and Anne knew they had cause to file a malpractice lawsuit against the hospital—they’d come close to losing their son. Due to initially poor treatment in ER, Aaron needed heavy doses of antibiotics for three months—and he needed the Wound VAC care for that same time.

            Aaron’s parents had more than one conversation about whether or not to file a lawsuit over their son’s lack of proper care. After discussions and prayer, they determined to wait to see how well his foot would heal.

  “We weren’t surprised when we got a call from the hospital where I’d taken Aaron after his accident. They were offering to provide us with specific information about their malpractice insurance. We learned it was Aaron’s surgeon who suggested the hospital reach out.”

            If life hadn’t already been so busy, they might, at that point, have consulted an attorney and filed a lawsuit. Anne had her hands full taking care of Aaron, as well as taking care herself. They were most grateful for Grandma Rainy’s assistance, but they couldn’t keep her in Colorado forever. As always, Rainy had been glad to help.

            So often people believe that the younger someone is, the more resilient they are, and therefore the quicker they will heal.

  “That wasn’t the case with Aaron,” Anne said. “His wound was painfully slow in healing. Mike and I were afraid he might never be able to put weight on his injured foot. We were grateful when he was finally able to put his knee on the frame of a scooter—allowing him to more easily get around both inside and outside the house.”

     Anne continued keeping an eye on Aaron, and doing what she could to support Mike as he spent every spare minute studying—every ten years he had to renew his emergency medical certificate. And Anne was grateful she had her eyesight. But because her right eye could no longer produce tears, she was told she would need to use eye drops the rest of her life.

  “It was a small price to pay,” Anne said.

            Cooler weather moved into the lower elevations of the Colorado foothills, and the Schlegels continued work inside the house, when time permitted. It seemed like forever, but the day came when Aaron could tolerate putting weight on his foot. Mike sat for his medical boards and passed with flying colors. His emergency medical certificate would be good for an additional ten years.

            “Mike told me that September was, for him, the hardest and most stressful month of our marriage. He was studying for the renewal of his certification as an emergency medical doctor, dealing with Aaron’s emergency surgery and the necessary follow-up care at home, and coping with my three surgeries. We were both concerned over whether or not I would have my vision. We were thankful that God’s strength had pulled us through.”

            For the first time in weeks, the Schlegels felt life was returning to normal.

A Phone Call

            “Normal didn’t last but a few days,” Anne said. “A month after my last eye surgery, I received a phone call. I was informed that my mother didn’t have long to live.”

            Anne began making travel plans to visit her mother, now a patient in an Indiana nursing home. Mike couldn’t immediately get off work—there wasn’t another emergency room doc available, and Aaron still needed considerable care.

  “I made arrangements for a friend to come to the house to help out until Mike could take a leave of absence to stay with our boys, for whatever time I would be gone.”

  Margie was eighty the last time she had stayed with Anne and her family. For years, she had visited twice a year, staying three to four weeks at a time. Her visits were torture for Anne, simply because of her mother’s extreme needs. Margie’s drug addiction had continued through the years, as had her self-absorption.

  Every visit, she would ignore Noah and Aaron, focus on one or more of the dogs, and then make everything about her. Anne had quickly learned she couldn’t leave her sons with her mother. Margie’s needs stressed the entire family.

  “My mother always made everything about her, and she had this ability to attract people to her and make them feel sorry for her,” Anne said. “People would then offer to help. She was so manipulative, in such a sweet way, that others didn’t realize they were being taken in. Her comment, ‘What about me?’ quickly brought people to her side to attend to her every need. So often I was frustrated because I couldn’t believe anyone would keep falling for that line. Many times I was made out to be the ‘bad guy’ because I knew what she was up to, and I wouldn’t drop everything to immediately respond.”

            As she waited for the plane to taxi down the runway at Denver International Airport, known locally as DIA, Anne leaned back in her seat, recalling the last time Margie had visited. It was June of 2006. Anne had arranged for a photographer for family pictures. The pictures he took clearly captured the vacant look in Margie’s eyes.

  “The signs of Alzheimer’s were already noticeable at that time, and over the years, they progressively worsened. For the last two years, Mom had been in a nursing home, both for her benefit, and for her protection.”

            It hadn’t been long after her parents had knelt and prayed with her all those years ago, that Margie started changing. Being dependent on drugs changed her personality, and there wasn’t room for people in her life unless they were willing to cater to her needs.

            “I remembered the first time I held Noah in my arms—I questioned how any mother could be like my mom. The day I held Noah changed our lives—life was no longer about us. It was about Noah. And after we adopted Aaron, life was about Noah and Aaron, and Mike and I doing everything we could to be the best possible parents to meet their needs, and prepare them for the world.

         “There were very few years for Mom when life wasn’t about her—I didn’t understand.”

            Anne had arranged to stay with Dawn and Bruce, to make travel to the nursing home easier. When she reached her mother’s bedside, Margie was mostly in a coma. Anne would talk to her mom, read to her, and sometimes climbed in bed and held her. She was sure, that at some level, her mother was aware of her presence and could hear her speak.

            Caring for her healing eye added to Anne’s stress of traveling and being with Margie. To make sure she didn’t get an infection, she used prescription eye drops several times a day. And to keep from itching her eye, she wore a patch over it at all times.

  “That eye patch was annoying. With one eye doing the work for two, I sometimes found my depth perception was off—I had to be especially careful on stairs and when driving.”

A Heavy Load

            “I carried guilt for years,” Anne explained. “Guilt that I couldn’t ever quite please my mother, guilt for having her in a nursing home, guilt that I couldn’t make things better.

  "During that trip, guilt tapes played over and over in my head. A good daughter would have cared for her mother. A good daughter would have willingly put her mother first. A good daughter would have . . . done things, things I didn’t do because I had a family to care for and my mother’s demands were constant and unrealistic. The tapes of could’ve, would’ve, and should’ve wouldn’t stop. They just added to my feelings of guilt. I had to wonder if they would ever stop playing.”

            Margie drew her last breath three days after Anne arrived at her bedside. She was laid to rest Oct. 12, 2012. The funeral service was well attended by family and friends. Margie had lived to be eighty-six years old, so there were few friends her age in attendance.

  At the cemetery, Anne pulled her coat tight around her, wishing it would shield her as well from her feelings of guilt as it did the cool, humid air. As she slowly walked from the gravesite, she hoped her mother was finally at peace.

  “On the flight back to Colorado, I had to wonder—would I ever be able to reconcile my feelings about my mother?

“I knew if I didn’t, I wouldn’t find peace for myself.”

***

They had dealt with a lifetime of stressors in a month, and God had seen them through each of those. They were so grateful for Anne’s eyesight, thankful for Aaron’s healing, and relieved that Mike had passed his certification test. They weren’t given a chance to breathe when Anne received the call about her mother. What else would this family go through? There was more for me to hear and write about—but at that moment, I wondered if Anne would find the peace she was looking for.

Continue to Chapter 28