In this Homebound Homeschool series, I’ve talked about our diagnosis and our preparation for surgery. The time in the hospital was the next phase of this process.
It was a huge revelation of expectation versus reality.
Can you believe that Emma packed art supplies and a ukulele, thinking that she would pass the time on those pursuits? None of us had any concept of the amount of pain she would be in. Basically she was either sleeping, in terrible pain, or doing her required physical therapy. There was no “free time.”
For my part, I packed lots of books and my laptop. I planned on writing, blogging, and reading. I knew that Emma would often be asleep and I would have time to work. I did some email and Internet browsing during our week in the hospital, but to be honest, I was so exhausted that I had no mental power for any serious work.
I am a person who requires more than average sleep (10 hours a night minimum). Any of you who have slept in a hospital know that it is not conducive for sleeping:
- the bright lights
- the constant interruptions by nurses and doctors
- the beeping machines
- the uncomfortable bed
I spent many hours poised over Emma’s bed, trying to soothe her. The longest I got to sleep at a stretch would be four to five hours. Needless to say, I was very, very tired. The lack of quality sleep combined with the emotional turmoil zapped any possibility of mental function.
And so a few days into my stay, I asked my husband to take my books and papers home. It was unrealistic to think that I could write an eBook in the hospital. (Go ahead and laugh at me. It is ridiculous. Now I realize that.)
Instead, I gave myself permission to completely focus on the task at hand — getting Emma well enough to go home.
Okay, I realize that this is kind of an off-the-wall thing to comment on, but, well, it stuck out to me and I just have to say how happy I am to meet another person who requires more than average sleep. I have always been one of those (apparently rare) people who needs a minimum of 10 hours sleep. See? We’re kindred spirits. 😉
Looking forward to the rest of the series.
I’m the same way. But both of you seem to get WAY MORE DONE than I ever do.
((hugs)) this can’t be easy for either one of you.
Keeping you both in my prayers. {{HUGS}}
Not laughing at you – well, maybe a little smile – but you know, I think about it and I realize that in my life, I would set these goals for myself during these stressful times, almost as a way of controlling SOMETHING about the situation. So I’ve always been this person who’d come home from a family member’s funeral and have as a task on my list for the rest of the day to clean out every closet, things like that.
Now, it doesn’t always work out that way, and I’m TRYING to learn to “let go and let God,” as they say. But for someone with my love-to-control nature, I need to have a plan so that I don’t have too much time on my hands to sit and worry, and I could very much project that onto your situation!
Praying for you ladies.
I’m seconding what Kris said — I require a LOT of sleep, too, and I know it was probably very hard to care for a child who is in so much pain when you are sleep deprived. God’s grace took you through, Jimmie. I’m happy you’re sharing this journey.
My heart goes out to you. We spend many, many nights and days in the hospital with a very serious illness with our Emma. I could barely flip through magazines; I stared out the window to the salt trucks across the highway.
Many times people commented to me how we must be feeling the Lord’s presence so much closer than ever, and it’s true that He carried us through. But as for FEELING His presence more….not really; we were bearing up under stress, exhaustion, worry….our emotions were very raw.
Thinking and praying for your dear Emma.
Yes, that was a ridiculous idea, but I’m not laughing because I’ve been there! When my first husband was hospitalized I had similar ideas. My bag would sit for hours under the bedside table while I divided my time between him and our then 10 month old baby. Reality tends to be a little (read understatement here) different than our ideal But we can’t give up our ideals, either. We just have to learn when to adjust them to reality, and when we need to hold on to them as the vision that takes us through. The question becomes, are those ideals the Way, the Truth and the Life, being manifest in whatever task we have at hand, or are they are own flesh that we have to let go. Sorry for philosophizing. Fighting a battle of my own here, so I’m taking a deep look at that principle for myself.
I’ve never had a child in this type of situation, but having gone through the ordeal with my husband, which ended with his death three weeks after he came home, I’m very familiar with the emotions that crash over us at a time like this. The most comforting thing for me then, was to know I could go boldly beyond the veil to the throne and sit on my Daddy’s lap for comfort and strength. I spent a lot of time there…. and do still.
Hugs! I know she didn’t get to use them but it made me smile that she picked art supplies and her ukulele. =) And I’m certain I’d have done the same thing, expecting to try to get some work done, but not being able to concentrate on any real work. The REAL work would be Momma mode, watching over my baby. Hugs to you both!
Though different situation than yours, I recently spent 5 nights in the hospital with my 4.5 yo who had pneumonia. They had to prick her three times for IVs. I slept next to her in her tiny bed. I brought my laptop but I could not do anything serious either. She woke up in puddles of sweat the first three nights. She had a better attitude than I did. The nurses loved her. Very proud of my little girl.
I have autoimmune diseases and am a childhood cancer survivor and have spent my fair share of time in the hospital. It never gets easy; but it is a part of life and being there for your child is just one opportunity to show them we love them no matter how sleepy we are.
The poor dear. I love that she brought a ukuele.
It sure is hard to get anything done in a hospital. When we first brought Mackie to the ER, I managed to read a short book on diabetes. Once we hit the PICU though, there was no accomplishing anything. And visitors weren’t allowed to sleep in the room. You had to go to a special room to sleep. Like I’d leave my kid alone and scared.
We spent over 100 days in 9 months taking turns in the hospital. Chairs that folded out to make sort of beds. The lights. The beeps. The helicoter flying in at 3 in the morning with a critical ill or injured child that would keep you awake praying. A son being pumped full of fluids to flush out the chemo from sensitive areas, thus peed every hour and it had to be measured.
No there is no hope of getting work done.
Praying for you, Emma and the rest of your family.
I wish I could sleep ten hours. I seem to be programed to wake after six, but I always feel tired.
I so hear you! I remember when Maddy was in for her Chiari II (brain stem) decompression, thinking that, ok, this is old hat now. No big deal. She’s a baby, she’ll be sleeping, I can surely bang out my homework for Intermediate Accounting during all those long hours of waiting. Goodness, besides nurses, RTs, cleaning staff, nurses’ aides, doctors, the person who brings toys, and three different therapists, it felt like there was someone I had to talk to all the time, or at least not be buried with my nose in my laptop. And when it was relatively quiet in the evening, my brain was so fried I could do the simplest of accounting processes, let alone something more complicated.
Anyway, so glad you were able to go home (and YAY for bribing). Praying for a swift recovery for Miss Emma.