The Untitled Project

I've probably start, stopped, and rewritten this post several times as I've processed what happened with my husband's second heart attack.  And I'm still processing.  I'm just going to be real here.

I have a new found admiration for every family member that has to sit with anyone they love in the hospital.  They are the ones that have to fight for that one they love in that hospital bed.  In my case, it was fun because my husband was totally drugged and was saying things like, "Awww, you're so sweet to me."

Did I have my Daddy God to lean on?  Absolutely.  What I found out is that people I thought were friends really weren't when it got down to walking the talk.  One person out of hundreds actually showed up in person.  One.  Know what I needed that week?  Real, actual people.  Those who will come sit with me through hours of waiting while my husband was in surgery.  Someone who would have offered to check in our kids while I was at the hospital, maybe taken them some meals.  Someone who would have reached out with a hug to me and said everything was going to be all right.  It would all be okay.

I just learned those willing to go that distance don't often exist.  And I'll admit, I'm pretty disappointed in my circle of so-called friends.  Everyone worries about that person in the hospital bed, forgetting on the opposite side is someone they love having to drop everything and care for that someone they love dearly.

Let's not forget the hospital staff themselves.  If there's one thing I can say to the hospital my husband was in is that they really, REALLY, need to get on the same page with hospital policies.  Being told one day, yes, I absolutely need to stay with my husband from a hospital administrator after being told by a nurse that I couldn't stay the night, and then the next, being told by yet another nurse I couldn't stay at the hospital overnight and sleeping on a waiting room floor, knowing my husband was going to have a second surgery the next day... that was more upsetting to me than anything else.  The nurses don't even realize how much work I saved them staying in the hospital with my husband. 

And now, my husband is back at work after being fully released by his cardiologist, and now, because someone up high seems to think my husband had open-heart surgery (he had a cath procedure to place stints), they're not letting him work OT, which puts even more stress on me to work to make up for the difference. 

Am I angry right now? You bet.  I am angry that my husband hasn't taken care of his health all these years, though I am proud of him for changing his eating habits and adding exercise.  I am angry at the hospital staff.  I am angry because I just can't seem to get a break from working, when I need for things to get paid off so we can get out of debt.  I am angry at God because I feel like He's letting me down right now.   I am angry for all those people who say, "Yeah, I"m your friend," but don't show up when it's really needed.  I'm angry. 

So there, God.  I've laid it down on the table.  I know you know how I feel, but I have to ask you what you're going to do to show up and keep your covenant of faithfulness to our lives.  I have to know.  I have to see your hand working here.