When It Rains It Pours

And much of this downpour has been in the form of tears.

This month should have been one of the most exciting months of my life.  New home, new season of life...abundant blessings.   Instead, it has been fraught with pain and sadness.  Oh, the joy is to come...of that I am sure...but these last few weeks have been one of the most stressful, painful seasons of my life.

My gall bladder surgery started the "downhill spiral."  While I was in the hospital my Mom somehow tweaked her back and has been in horrible pain since.  Her sciatic nerve is the offender, and so far her GP has been very little help.  We are hoping that a trip to the chiropractor tomorrow will give her some sort of relief.  In the meantime, she will continue to hobble with a walker...when she's able to walk at all.

And then there's my sweet Dad.  Last Friday morning I went to a friend's baby shower and when I came home I immediately noticed that my Dad was just not himself--pale, somewhat lethargic, a bit clammy.  I asked him if he was OK and he mumbled "I don't know what's wrong but I just don't feel well."  A few minutes later he was sweating profusely and couldn't breathe and told me to call 911.  I called, the paramedics arrived, hooked my Dad up to every machine in their arsenal and whisked him away to the hospital.  My Mom was in a semi-comatose pain-induced state when I told her that the paramedics were on the way for Dad.  I somehow managed to get her dressed while the paramedics were working on Dad and told her she needed to ride in the ambulance with Dad and I'd be there as soon as I could.  Of course, she could barely walk to the ambulance.  Thank God the paramedics showed compassion for her, as well, and helped her along.

After making a dozen phone calls to family and friends and figuring out what to do with my boys, I jumped in the van, drove to my brother in law and sister in law's house to drop off my kids, and got to the hospital as fast as the Friday afternoon traffic would allow.  Mom, my brother and some of my parent's friends were in with Dad when I arrived.  We learned that he did not have a heart attack but would be admitted to the hospital for monitoring and a battery of tests.

Fast forward to yesterday, Monday...Dad had an angiogram (heart catheterization process to assess the damage to his heart.)  We expected some blockage, as he had had an angioplasty (procedure to open up arteries in his heart) about three years ago.  However, this angiogram revealed major blockage and he is scheduled to have a five-way bypass (open heart surgery) on Friday.  One of his arteries was 100 % blocked, another 85% blocked.  He was a ticking time bomb and we are so grateful that he didn't sustain a heart attack, as it could likely have been fatal.

In light of all this chaos, Todd tried to see if I could stay in CA to help my parents and close on our house "by proxy."  Unfortunately, more lead time is needed to make this legality work...so, against everything in my heart, we are scheduled to fly out to GA on Thursday morning, as planned.  The original plan was to leave the kids here with my parents while we close and move in and then pick them up on October 7, but clearly Mom and Dad are in no position to take care of the boys.  Todd is currently down South, but he will fly to Orange County tomorrow night, we will zip to the hospital to see my Dad, and then Todd and the boys and I will be on an 11 am flight to Atlanta on Thursday morning. 

On Friday, while my Dad's heart is laid bare in surgery, we will be receiving the keys to our new home.  It just feels wrong on so many levels.  Conflicted doesn't even begin to describe how I'm feeling.  But at the same time I KNOW God is in control and that HE has a plan.  I believe that wholeheartedly.  I'm grateful for the family and friends who are rallying around my parents in their time of need...but I so wish I could have a more "hands-on" role in their lives right now.  Instead, I'll be on the other side of the country...praying unceasingly.

Dad has a long, eight week recovery ahead of him.  No driving, no lifting, no much of anything except going to doctor appointment after doctor appointment.  I will most likely fly back by myself and help them once Dad is home and healing.  Hopefully Mom will be healed by then, as well.

Just recently, as in the past week or so, I heard the term "sandwich generation" for the first time.  Adult children "sandwiched" between taking care of their young kids and their aging parents.  I didn't think much about it at the time, but right now I am living it.

Peanut butter and jelly, anyone?