The BEST Lent EVER, 2015

Heavenly Father,
Thank you for finding me worthy of sending me sufferings, especially during this Lenten Season, that I may grow ever closer to you. I unite my sufferings, just as St Faustina did, to the agony of your beloved Son, Jesus, in his crucifixion, in atonement for my sins and those of the whole world. In Jesus' name. Amen.

     Thursday morning began like all Thursdays, I just happened to be running a little later than usual. I was in the midst of doing "one last thing," before walking out the door, when I received the call from my brother, Carlton.
     "Deb, I don't know what's happened to mom. I called for an ambulance. She's unresponsive. I need you to come over here right now."
     "Ok."
     As Carlton drove us to the emergency room, his words tumbled out in explanation:
     "I don't know what happened; last night she was fine. She went to bed a little earlier than usual, but she seemed fine. I know she got up this morning, because the light was on in the kitchen. When I saw the light on, I knew she was awake and I'd go check on her when I was done with my shower, which was our routine. Once I was done with my shower and went into her room, I saw that she had one foot on the floor, the other on the bed, and her body kind of crumpled against the bed. She looked like she was sleeping, but then I saw drool coming out of her mouth...When I tried to get her to talk to me, she wasn't acknowledging me; I knew something was terribly wrong. I called the ambulance then," Carlton was still visibly very upset.

     I did my best to reassure him, "You found her quickly and called the ambulance, so she's going to be all right." I had to believe this myself, so I did my best to sound convincing.
     When we reached the Emergency room, we weren't allowed to see Mom right away, which was frustrating for me, and Carlton too, I'm sure. I began thinking about the last conversation mom and I had...I think we spoke on Tuesday night? Would I hear her voice again?
     Since we were nearing the end of Lent, I began to look for connections between the woe I was feeling about my mom's health, and Christ's afflictions during his Crucifixion. Images from the stations of the cross came to mind and I found myself really empathizing with Our Blessed Mother; she had to witness her son's anguish and could do nothing about it. I didn't know what physical and/or mental agony my mother was undergoing, and there wasn't anything I could do either. I took comfort knowing the Mother of us all knew my pain and understood what I was feeling.
     At long last we were allowed into the ER. Carlton reached mom first.. He was sobbing loudly as he looked at his mother. I gently nudged him away and started talking to mom, "Mom, Carlton and I are here and we love you. We're praying for you and know you are going to get better. We love you. Know that the Blessed Mother is here with us too. I'm praying for you." There was a ventilator tube in mom's throat, leading to her lungs, and helping her breath. Her eyes were open, but she didn't seem conscious of what was going on around her. Tears cascaded down my face. The question again arose in my heart, would I ever hear mom's voice again? Was mom going to die?

     Thanks be to God, mom has many friends at church, and I began phoning them, asking them to tell everyone at church about my mom being in ICU, and to please start praying for her complete recovery. I also called our parish priest, requesting his presence at the hospital. He arrived within the hour, blessing mom and giving her the anointing of the sick. I asked him if this anointing would also serve as Last Rites, and he said yes. He remained with us as the neurosurgeon came in and spoke to us.
    The neurosurgeon, we found out, was also Catholic (as were most of the nurses in the ICU; they even attended the church we did). I thought to myself, "God's hand is in this," and felt at peace. The doctor didn't have much to tell us, other than mom was going to have an MRI done, so we could assess what happened, if there was any damage to her brain.
     While we watched mom being wheeled to the MRI, more tears. Carlton and I hugged and cried. Again, the worry: was mom in pain? Since my brother is agnostic, I could only say prayers in my head, which added to my suffering. I felt deserted by those closest to me, and I understood the despair Jesus must have felt when his disciples fled and denied him as he was being led away.
     I pleaded with the Lord to spare mom any discomfort.I wanted to take on whatever pain she was feeling; I can handle it, Lord, send it to me, I silently prayed, adding Help me, Jesus, please give me courage to bear this grief. Thank you Lord. 
     The MRI and cat-scan gave us some good news: there was no blood on the brain, and no signs of a stroke, praise the Lord! The stroke mom had in 2013 appeared on the MRI, and the neurosurgeon told us mom had had a seizure, possibly due to high blood pressure, or dehydration. With this information, mom was moved to ICU. The ventilator tube was still in her throat, as well as various other tubes. She looked shrunken and delicate. More tears.

     As mom was moved to ICU, I felt like I was walking into a dark cave; they laid Christ's body in the sepulcher. If before this experience I hadn't had an idea what misery looked and felt like, I did now. Mom wasn't responding to touches, or our voices, but we continued speaking to her and kissing her. I prayed without ceasing, or so it seemed. When I became discouraged or despondent,besides praying the  rosary several times, and the Divine Mercy chaplet, I called an ACTS sister and she prayed with me; I asked God for special blessings on all those praying for mom. Mom looked terrible: her lips and mouth were swollen as her body tried to fight the intrusive tube down her vocal chords.More tears came when I forgot to look past the patches on her cheeks that held the ventilator in her mouth, instead of just seeing mom.

This is how a ventilator tube works.

     Mom had to be strapped to the bed to keep her from reaching to pull the tube from her mouth. Then there was the "cleaning" of the ventilator tube; this was when another tube was put down mom's throat to clear any mucus or saliva that may have gone down the ventilator, into her lungs. At these "cleanings," I had to leave the room; I just could not bear to see mom struggling with the tube in her mouth as they cleaned her.As the days knocked against each other, the respiratory doctor would come in and tell the nurses to reduce her dependence on the ventilator. Mom was carefully and slowly breathing more and more on her own. But that ignoble ventilator wasn't going anywhere until mom could breath more than fifty-percent on her own. The respiratory doctor had the nurses give mom  steroids to reduce the swelling in her mouth, tongue and lips, so the tube could be removed. Pick up your cross and follow me.
     As I've already mentioned, Carlton and I kissed mom relentlessly on the forehead and stayed close by her at all times. Attached to the ventilator tube is a machine that beeps loudly if mom makes a sudden movement, or has problems breathing, and it keeps count of how many breaths mom takes in a minute. Carlton and I learned how to read this machine and I kept praying the number of breathes she took on her own would increase.
     Even more tears; and when I thought I was done crying and doing okay, I'd just look at mom and the tears would gather and release, gather and release, gather and release...Jesus meets the women of Jerusalem who weep for him; I asked the Father again to please forgive my sins and to create a new heart in me, for Him, and for all of his sufferings. 
    On the work front, for me at least, the devil was creating as much chaos as possible. My principal accused me of not being "a team player," and she wanted proof that I was at a hospital. The nurse at my school was furious for having to "do my job," in addition to hers, since "she didn't ask to do my job." When she and I spoke on the phone, she never asked how mom was doing. In fact, she and my principal both wanted me to go in to work for a "half-day," at least. This request was out of the question for me.
Nothing could pry me from my mother's side.The Pharisees didn't believe Jesus was who he said he was; they considered his miracles blasphemy and works of the devil.

     My ACTS sister gave me Psalm 91 to pray and meditate on as time allowed, and I prayed it fervently for all my co-workers and asked God to "forgive them, as they knew not what they were doing," while I wrestled with my anger; what I really wanted to do was lash out at them for their lack of compassion and mercy, but I knew this wasn't how Jesus treated those who beat, mocked and crucified him. I prayed instead, Heavenly Father, transform these angry feelings. Bless me with the grace to see my co-workers as children of God. Help me Heavenly Father and I ask for forgiveness for any wrong I've done to my co-workers too. Please forgive us Father. He did too. After a few days of emails sent to me and my counseling supervisor that were accusatory and depicted me as not having a "whatever it takes attitude," the Lord blessed me with the words to refute the accusations confidently, without malice of any kind; and work no longer bothered me.
     Thank you Lord, for expanding my empathy toward our Lord's Passion. I was learning so much and growing closer to our Lord.
     Carlton's friends came to the hospital: one prayed over mom and the other brought her a pretty potted plant. None of my friends came to the hospital, but I felt loved and thought of by the many texts of support I received. Mom's sisters called and mom's friends were in constant contact; they visited often throughout her stay in the ICU, praise the Lord, The lighter moments, respites, really, came when friends visited, bringing flowers and gifts for Easter. Besides my obsessive praying, mom's friends were also praying many, many, many rosaries and the Divine Mercy.. At one point, when I was anxious about the ventilator tube,  looking out the window of the hospital, as the sun was setting, I saw a white cross in the reflection of the building across from mom's building. God was reminding me of the resurrection and it gave me hope.
     One rule Carlton and I came up with while mom was in the ICU: mom was not to be left alone; one of us, or friends,  had to be with her at all times. Which meant one of us had to sleep in the room with her at night. When I say "sleep in the room," I mean sleep on the only recliner in the room. It's wasn't comfortable, but it allowed us to be close to mom during the evening, and that's what we needed most. I offered up my discomfort for the souls in purgatory. Pick up your cross and follow me.

One of mom's friends brought her this statue; it is from Fatima.

      My brother and I began a routine: if I stayed the night, he went home to sleep, returning in the morning to relieve me; if he stayed the night, then I was morning relief. My heart ached when I was away from mom. I appreciated every moment I was with her, because now I was facing the reality of her being 82... More tears when I thought about this reality. I would think to myself, "I could spend every waking moment with her and not add a day to her life!" UGH.
     When I spent the night, sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night just to watch her breathe. Seeing her chest rise and fall told me she was still with us, and I thanked God for every blessed minute. The disciples were caught off guard with Christ's death; they couldn't fathom Christ dying, or being crucified. When Christ died on the cross, I pondered the piercing of Mary's soul, and the pain of loss the disciples felt. The Resurrection is what gives all of us hope. 
     There was one particular day that was even more difficult than the previous ones: mom regained consciousness, but because of the medicine, she made strange requests. She told me she needed an iron because there were many clothes to iron. She insisted I stop a nurse when they passed by the room, to ask for an iron. When she realized I wasn't going to ask a nurse, she waved a nurse in herself. The nurse smiled and said, "Sweetie, I'll bring you an iron tomorrow. But we don't need to iron today." She winked at me and left the room. This calmed mom a bit. But later that evening and into the night, mom was extremely restless and anxious. It was like she couldn't be at peace; she wanted to remove the tube and she wanted to get out of the bed. Carlton used his most soothing voice, petting mom's arm and kissing her face to calm her, but mom's fidgeting only increased. I just watched, helpless. This particular night was my turn with mom. The doctors gave her something to help her sleep, but the medicine didn't start working until 5:30 the next morning, and it kept her asleep for the rest of the day.
     On Monday of the following week, the respiratory doctor gave permission to remove the ventilator tube!

     Once the ventilator tube was removed, mom could be moved to a "regular" private room in the hospital. God blessed her with a spacious "recovery" room! It had tables and a real fold out bed! Patients on this floor had a snack room filled with coffee, cereals, and ice cream. Now when friends visited, Carlton and I could offer them something to eat or drink. Thanks be to God, again, mom only stayed the weekend in this room. From here she was transported to a rehabilitation center, which is where I am typing the rest of this post. Mom's "old wounds," from her stroke, reared their ugly heads and have forced her to work with a physical therapist, an occupational therapist and a speech therapist. Her voice was extremely hoarse from the tube, and has only now (two or three weeks later!) sounding a little more normal, but not by much.
     The rehab center is also very nice; comfortable chairs everywhere, and a large lounge area in the middle where people could chat,  read, or work on puzzles. Mom's room was on the second floor and had a huge window where you could see an open field, or the parking lot, .
     There were two geese that sat underneath some trees and mom and I liked to watch them. I've been spending every day with mom and a couple of nights; Carlton comes in the evening, since he's returned to work. Mom looks incredibly tired and admitted to me she felt tired. Her hair has a great perm on it so she looks good, with curls caressing her face. I prayed a prayer of gratitude, thank you Lord for returning mom to us. 
     The decision to sleep at the rehab center wasn't made right away, but then I thought of the name of the place: it was a rehab hospital. Mom was still in the hospital and I needed to stay with her. This time the bed was a tiny fold-out chair. On the night that I almost decided not to sleep at the rehab center, she fell in the bathroom.  I found her laying on her side, looking up at me with the surprise of a child. She appeared extremely bewildered by her environment and unsure what to do. She was too heavy for me to lift, and since it was 3:30 in the morning, I wasn't thinking clearly. I didn't call for a nurse. I held her walker tightly as she pulled herself upright again. Once she was standing up, she was able to use the restroom and get back to bed. Then Jesus said to his disciples: If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me. 

    Thanks be to God, mom is now home again with Carlton. Talks have begun of her going to live with a dear friend, and all of us are seriously considering the offer. Mom has already said yes. There is a bed in the bedroom where mom would sleep, so most of her things would still be with Carlton.. Heavenly Father, your will be done. Always. In Jesus Precious name. Amen.
     Remember, GOD is GOOD, ALL THE TIME; ALL THE TIME, God is GOOD. Be blessed and happy Easter!
     If you're wondering why I can say this was the BEST Lent ever, it's because our Lord blessed me with an opportunity to grow in him. I found a place where I love him more and seek him and his will in ALL things; I used  to only ask God's advice on big issues. Now I ask the Lord to help me in ALL decisions; from which clothes I should wear to work, to which route is the safest to drive to work. I'm in constant dialogue with Christ and his Blessed Mother. I see the Blessed Mother in a new and sympathetic light too, growing closer to her, and loving her even more than I did. Jesus' Passion became real to me and I am beholden unto him for this awakening and to God for finding me worthy to share in just a tiny taste of our Lord's Passion.

"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa