A Crazy Week

This week has been a bit nutty. On the downside, Mark has been in the hospital every other day, and Brendan's bout with the flu (while over now) was long and nasty. On the upside, we got a dog!! The church bought us a pure black cocker spaniel pup, only about 2 1/2 months old. I hadn't planned on a puppy because of all the extra work that's involved in training a puppy, but he is SO sweet. He is playful but mellow and SO affectionate. Everybody here is head over heels in love with him (and vice versa). He feels just like part of the family already. I'll post pictures of him later. I haven't got them onto the computer yet. But I just wanted to come in and update you all on what's been going on here. Below, rather than writing everything twice, I've copied most of an email that I wrote to a friend this morning:


Okay. Me, at last. I slept (on the living room floor--the mattress has a leak and really isn't worth blowing up anymore) until I had to wake the kids up for school, only to find that my automatic coffee maker was flaking off on its job and there was no coffee yet. Wincing against a headache, I started the coffee and took the dog out. It was raining, but I stood out there and said, "go potty" about 15 times. Finally brought him back in the house so that he could promptly poop on the kitchen floor... No sooner had I gotten the boys up, then Brendan started demanding coffee cake. Once informed that we didn't have time for that today, he sat down on the stairs and started shrieking at me. "I hate you!" I didn't have the energy to say more than, "That's nice." Got coffee for Mark (who still appears quite foggy), waffles for Brendan, peanut butter toast for Alex. Washed down Brendan's legs after HIS peeing accident. Took a shower. (Took the dog with me so that he wouldn't decorate my carpets while I was out of sight, but he couldn't see me behind the shower curtain and started wailing.) Got out, stuffed my bloated self into the only pair of (ripped) jeans in my drawer. (Is it time to do laundry already??) Hunted for socks for Brendan. (Can they possibly ALL be dirty??) Finally found a pair. Ran the boys to school. Came home. Popped some ibuprofen. Called the junior high to let them know that Kayte is home sick today. Took the dog out again. Praised him extensively when he produced poop ON THE LAWN!!! Came in, filled my coffee cup again, and ... voila! Home free ...

Actually, it's going to be a somewhat busy day. Mark (if he can) needs to go in and help set up 15 new computers at the church. And Brendan has his first soccer game at 5:00 tonight. (And soccer pictures at 9 a.m. tomorrow, and another game at 10:30.) And I need to edit a story for Perri. I feel terrible! She sent it to me several days ago, and I comPLETEly forgot. Then, while I was busy forgetting my friend, she got word from the agent who had requested her manuscript. It's a no go. The story is "too sad." That kind of makes me mad. Hello?!? It's about grief! And she does a fabulous job of instilling the hope of healing at the end, without being sappy in the least. It's a great book! And she's worked her tail off, in between a two hour commute (each way), a job with behaviorally challenged teens, three kids under 8, AND a farm! She gets about four hours of sleep a night--consistently! I feel like sending off a note to J. Weber to the effect of, "How DARE you do this to her?" But ... that's the way the game is played. And like I said to her: it's not a matter of whether the book is good. It's a matter of finding the right agent who will share her vision. And she'll find him/her, I'm sure. It just can be a long process sometimes. I just wish I hadn't spaced her story, this week of all weeks ... Bad, bad friend. Bad ... (slinking off to my "kennel" now ...)

Back with a new cup of hot coffee. Mmm ... What is it about coffee in your favorite mug that is so reassuring in the morning? (I think my coffee is like Alex's blue blanket, that he drags downstairs with him and often drapes over his head as he sits at the computer in the morning.)

So, about Mark ... I found out more yesterday about what had happened to Mark before I got to him on Tuesday. I guess he'd gotten worse in the ambulance. His heartbeat kept rising up until it was over 200 beats a minute, and they switched on the sirens and lights and went code three. Then when they got to the ER, he was surrounded with a whole bunch of nurses. They had to put in multiple lines in case they needed to push multiple meds. They almost put one in his neck! His veins are really scared, and he only has a few places left where they can still get a line. But thankfully they didn't have to resort to that. Dr. Rosoff asked, "So, tell me what you need." Mark told him what medication worked, what dosage, how fast to push it. Dr. R said, "You heard him, people. Do it. I'll put it in the computer." No wonder he was agitated when I got there!

Yesterday's "event" wasn't as big of a deal. I think Mark was just spooked. But he WAS having TERrible chest pain and his heart kept trying to kick into SVT. We called an ambulance again. As soon as they pulled out with him, I loaded the boys and the pup in the van and raced off to Brendan's soccer practice. Yes, I realize that seems heartless! but ... well, I've talked about this so many times before, the struggle between being there for Mark and allowing the kids to have as normal of a life as possible. And I'm glad I took Brendan to soccer practice because he had a BLAST! Then I took the dog home to his kennel, checked in with Kayte (whose team had creamed the opposition at their volleyball game), and took the boys over to Jason and Becca's. Then I went in to Newberg and found Mark a little agitated (not overly so) but physically stable. His triponin levels were up there, which indicates some damage to the heart (although mild), and his EKG showed some abnormalities. His ... dang. What is it called? Hematocrit. (Couldn't think of the word there for a bit) His hematocrit, which indicates the thickness of his blood, is off the chart. They can only measure up to 70%. It's somewhere above there. They have no way of knowing how high it actually is, but basically his heart is trying to push around sludge, which would explain why it is keeps flipping out! They were going to admit him, but the ER docs consulted with the OHSU docs and they decided to watch him for four hours and repeat the enzyme test. After four hours, his enzymes were gradually starting to decline, so they let him go. As I walked out to get the van, one of the nurses called out, "I'll see you tomorrow." Then we both laughed/groaned and said, in stereo, "I hope not!"

I met the sweetest little boy though yesterday. Actually, he was there with his two older sisters, but it was the little guy who stole my heart. He must have been about four. They were waiting in the lobby when I went to get some peanut M&M's from the vending machine. Their mom was in the ER, and they had nothing to do. One girl had her stuffed animal clutched to her chest, and one was leafing through a magazine, but they looked pretty bored. So I went out to the van and some books and games out of our hospital bag and brought them in for them to use. I squatted down and was talking to them when the little girl with the stuffed animal asked what was wrong with my husband. I said, "He has a bad heart." She said, "Oh, my brother had a hole in his heart." I said, "Really? Well, that's what wrong with my husband. But he was born a long time ago, before they could fix stuff like that so now he has a lot of problems." The little boy looked at me. "My name is ..." He started spelling in sign language. "C ... O ... L ..." I asked, "Is your name Cole?" Yes. He was SO adorable! I loaned him a dinosaur puzzle and went back to be with Mark. A couple of hours later, his dad had him return it because they were about to go home. I wouldn't have cared if he kept it! But the dad was clearly trying to teach him about sharing and returning other people's property so I didn't insist he keep it (even though I would have preferred that he keep it, just because he was such a sweetheart, and any kid who has already gone through open heart surgery deserves at LEAST a dollar store dinosaur puzzle!). But his dad made him give it back, which he did (reluctantly), but when his dad prompted him to say thank you, Cole said, "I can't. It hurts my mouth to say that." :) I think the ER needs a toy box. Some coloring books and crayons and puzzles, at least. Maybe I'll see what I can do about that, down the road here soon.