A not-so-grand farewell.

It’s been a hectic last three and a half weeks since my last post.  A drive from Portland, Oregon, to Florida mixed with a bout of intestinal flu.  Moving from the south to the north with a cold or otherwise undiagnosed “crud” that one physician thought may be pneumonia.

It’s not.  And that’s just swell.

I’ve even tried to log on to write a post a few days ago with little success, blaming a less-than-sufficient internet connection with my MacBook Pro.

Maybe I’ve just needed the time away from this, too.  Maybe I need even more time.

Honestly, I’m spent.  This sabbatical has been anything but.  For no rhyme or reason, other than to say, “God’s plans,” nearly all of my own have seemingly fractured right in front of my face.  I’ll refrain from dousing you all with my opinion about omnipotent planning schemes.

So now it’s 1:40 a.m. and I’m wide awake because someones’ comment on a Facebook post I have taken personally, even though words were placed into my mouth.

This will be my last post from a sabbatical perspective.  My last hurrah from the road.

I’m not going to write anymore from this journey as I’m too angry, irritated, broken, tired, resentful…well, I’m just too everything to want to sit and write.

I’m spent, like money on Michigan gasoline.

So from here I’m taking the time I’d spend here for myself.  I need to heal.  I need to rest.  I need to not feel so irate at darn near everything.

Not that my story is anything close compared to Job’s or Jesus’, but, God, why have you forsaken me!?!?!?  As Bruce said in Bruce Almighty, “SMITE ME, O MIGHTY SMITER!”

I’ve been sick four times on this trip.  I rarely get ill four times in one year, let alone a three-month stretch.  My daughter has a severe dairy and soy protein allergy that has kept me (and her mother) up at night (At least our medical deductible has been met early in the year, right?  Hey, glass half full!  *sigh*).  My sight-seeing and photography has taken a back seat to just about everything else I feel obligated to do.  I have a giant crack in the wind shield from a rock the size of a tennis ball…which, altogether, isn’t that bad when thinking of what could have happened to the RV damage-wise while on the road.  But, then again, I’m not back home yet, am I?  There’s still time and another 2,000 or so miles to travel.

To me, this has been such a colossal disaster that I have begun to think of many things I need to change.  While I am unsure of what any of this looks like, I have so much more to think about and many heavy decisions to make in the coming months that I feel even more overwhelmed than when I left on this trip.  It’s as if I left with a few questions only to return with dozens more.  It’s decidedly not the kind of returns I’d like to have had on this investment.

And while I’ve appreciated the kind gestures and words of encouragement, there is little that anyone can do to remove the overwhelming feeling of funk that I feel.  I know, when life gives you lemons make lemonade, right?  Sometimes the lemonade doesn’t turn out right, either.  It’s still sour and undrinkable.

But I also don’t want a pity party.  I don’t need to hear I-told-you-so’s from anyone, either, knowing that I probably was insane to try something like this.  I know who to blame.  I made this decision.  I made the plans.  I made the itinerary.  Me.

So many will ask what did you learn from all this?  and my response will be… What was I supposed to learn?

Intolerance for extended family travel?

I love my family.  I love to travel.  I love to see new places and meet new people and reminisce with old friends.

While so many have envied this trip from afar I can tell you I’m never doing this again.

I won’t deter anyone else from making a journey like this.  Only God knows how theirs will fare.

I am thankful for Portland’s Doernbecher’s Children’s hospital and the 9-South staff.  I am thankful for all the RV parks that have let me pull into their hook-ups.  I am thankful for all my church members who have kept their boundaries while I’ve been on sabbatical, though in a small community and with social media that is so much more challenging!

I am thankful for a supportive wife and my 5-month old’s giggle…and her chubby little legs.

I’m thankful for all those who stepped up to provide pulpit coverage during my absence.  I pray the church has been equally supportive and respectful of your presence, as they should be.

I am thankful to all of you who have read this blog.  I’ll return to it maybe in a couple months, far from the road, far from hospitals, far from personal sickness, far from all…this.

Farewell, road.  Maybe another time…and maybe not.  Just please be kind for the next couple thousand miles… I’d appreciate it.

My New Friends

One of Sophie’s first nurses…Ryanna.  

In case you haven’t heard the whole story it’s rather long.  So I’ll sum up.

Child sick in Astoria, Oregon.

Exhausted medical resources there in 3 days.

Transported to Portland – Doernbecher Children’s Hospital.

Moved RV from Hammond, Oregon to Jantzen Beach RV Park on Hayden Island…right underneath the exiting flight path from the Portland airport…and beside a major shipping channel…and very close to a set of railroad tracks…that go over a railroad trestle…clickity clack, clickity clack, clickity clack…etc. etc.  (And that’s the abridged version)

After two weeks of hospital stay, a diagnosis of an acute allergy to soy and dairy proteins (most likely…let’s pray there are no other food allergies!), much barfing…I mean, emesis after emesis after emesis, several trips to and from the RV in south-bound 405 morning traffic (holy-highway-engineers-on-acid-Batman!  I swear that person or peoples designed that freeway system just to piss people off), muchas deniro spent on cafeteria food, and so much more, we’re back in the RV.  My (Sweet) Sophie is out cold in the pack-n-play, my dear bride is sleeping soundly…in between airplane take-offs and choo-choo trains, and I am typing as quietly as I can so as to give the deepest-felt thanks I have for any group of people I’ve ever met.

Panda Team member, Sara(h?) brought Sophie to Portland from Astoria. We were grateful to see Sara(h?) on our last day, just before discharge! She’s pretty cool. All because she’s from Michigan and she’s as full of life as a cardiac defibrillator.

Doernbecher Floor 9 South staff.  Freaking awesome.  I met Mr. T once on a plane to LA.  Doesn’t even compare.

I can’t begin to fully articulate my gratitude to all who helped.  There’s a few who aren’t pictured, like CNA Allie (AKA MS. I-Can-Make-the-Sun-Shine-on-Anything), and so many other nurses that a better pastor with a better memory would be able to name here.  Even our lead Dr.s from the get-go deserve a standing ovation…And a hug…And a bag of chocolates…Swiss ones.  Then there’s the Panda Team who did everything from a two-hour transportation to finding a vein to draw labs from Sophie in short order.  Sophie was particularly difficult for your average phlebotomist who would draw more infant screams than actual hemoglobin.  I can’t forget the PICC team who effortlessly inserted a PICC line, which resulted in a near absolute turn-around in Sophie in warp-speed time.

You see, when your little child is in the hospital with God-knows-what the parents are typically helpless as…well…a new-born baby.  We were thrown into emotional chaos having to be constantly bed-side and wait for our little cherub to turn the corner.

This was hell for us.  I’d cry at the RV.  Melissa couldn’t contain herself either.  I imagine no caring parent could.

The day Sophie turned the corner after a PICC line with a giant bladder of TPN was being pumped into her bloated little body was like a certain palestinian dude from a couple thousand years ago turning water into wine.  Nothing short of a miracle.

All these hands…all these brilliant minds.  Wow.  I can’t begin to articulate my gratitude.

Our Nutritionist, Jessie, and her office mate have a competition to see who can have the cutest photo with a patient. WINNER!!!!!.

So, instead, I’ll tell a little story about a wedding a couple thousand years ago.  This story helped formed a little of who I am today.

Back then weddings lasted days.  Caterers would never carry enough wine to please the masses for that long of an affair.

At this wedding, the wine ran out.  Oops.  Party blunder.

One rather important character seems to give the charge and change the rest of history all by himself, saving the party from a total YouTube blunder to knocking the sweet socks off the guests with wine seemingly imported from France.  It was good stuff.

Now, many people have this idea that this main character does all the work himself, that this little miracle is chalked up to the one-and-only Jesus de Christo.

Not if we read the story carefully.

Jesus never leaves his seat.

He makes a request of the servants to first fetch the large, clay cisterns, each can carry about 30-40 gallons, and then asks them to fill said cisterns with water and, lastly, bring them to the chief steward, a 2000 year-old Chef Gordon Ramsay – if this doesn’t work, consider yourself canned.

At this point you’d think the story is complete.  But it’s not if you don’t ask one simple, hypothetical, nearly-rhetorical question that makes this story come alive.  What if those servants had said ‘no’ when Jesus commanded them to do those things?

Nurse Meghan prompted the most smiles out of Sophie during her shifts. She’s also pretty witty. And there’s no way she’s as old as what she says she is… she’s lying. I just know it. Guys, if this girl is single you are all WAY behind the 8-ball.

The answer is also simple.  There would be no miracle.  There would be no story worth telling again and again.  Had somebody recorded this on an ancient iPhone and uploaded it to YouTube it’s be a colossal, viral video fail of Biblical proportions.  Really.

There’s one answer why my daughter is sleeping soundly in the other room in the RV tonight… Because all these brilliant minds said a resounding “YES!” when they were called upon.

That’s how miracles happen.  That’s how water changes into wine.  There’s a call to do…and an equal response to get it done.

You know, the world would be a lot better (putting it mildly) if we all answered a call to do a miracle every once-in-awhile.

People dream of world peace.  It’s not that it’s impossible as much as the task to accomplish seems so daunting.  But there’s a call out there to do it.

The people on 9 South are these kind of people that want to make the world a better place.  A better place for terrified parents like we used to be a little more than a week ago.  They made our world full of peace.  That’s a miracle in and of itself.

For my wife and especially for my 19-week and two-day old baby…the world is much better.

Thank you Doernbecher 9 South staff.  This would not have happened if not for you.

I love you all.

 

p.s. – LOVE WINS.

(Enjoy the rest of the photos of some of our new best friends…They’ll be in my heart for years to come – and you can bet my daughter will learn to love them, too.)

Is there a speech-therapist guru like Steve anywhere? I think not. Unless you count his students, who are likely to be as guru’d as he is. Love these people!

The Captain of the Starship 9 South is office manager Barb, here with one of our CNA’s, Melinda, who both took great care of Sophie AND the both of us. Over and above the call of duty.

I couldn’t possible name all of them because I’m lousy with names…But here goes… STANDING, From L-R: Dr. New Guy, Dr. Awesome Shoes, Dr. Tim, Mrs. Happy Momma, Dr. Megan, Dr. I’m-there-every-day-they-never-give-me-a-day-off-and-I-deserve-one, Dr. Lance (I only remember his name because my favorite baseball player growing up was Detroit Tiger Catcher, Lance Parrish) KNEELING, L-R, Dr. Sara, and Dr. I-have-lunch-with-Tim. THAT’S how good I am with names, folks. Melissa will make me edit this later… She’s got the memory of an elephant.

To be honest, I think Sophie is going to miss this guy…and so will her parents.

The student Dr. attending to all Sophie’s needs – Dr.. Tim – This guy will make a GREAT doctor someday. I might even have to move to California just to have this guy as a Doc.

Happy Sophie = VERY happy momma.
THANK YOU 9 SOUTH!