Two years ago yesterday, Deat went to Dr. Kavanaugh's office in S-town for preliminary blood work for an ear surgery that never happened. He arrived home from the doctor's office and quickly changed into his uniform and headed back out to work at the jail.
Not long after he left, a lady from Dr. K's office called and said there were indications in Deat's blood work that his kidneys weren't functioning properly and that she had tried to reach Dr. Pratt (our family doctor) but was unsuccessful. I don't remember how I knew, but I told her Dr. Pratt would be out of town that week. She went on to say that Dr. K wanted to refer him to a nephrologist (kidney specialist) there in S-town and would we mind if she went ahead and made an appointment for Deat. No problem. She'd call me back with the appointment.
Ten minutes later she called back to say that his appointment was for 9 a.m. the following day. WHAT? In ten minutes she made an appointment with a specialist for very first thing the very next day?
"Um Ma'am, what did you find in my husband's bloodwork?"
She explained that a normal BUN level runs around 10... Deat's was 98. A high creatinine level is 1.3... Deat's was 4.8. I called Deat, then I called Mom.
"Kelly, I think maybe you better go to this doctor's appointment with him, okay?"
Deat drove us over in his car the following morning. I don't remember what we talked about but I remember where we parked. Being my anal self, I took a notebook with me, and took notes as Doctor Matthews talked. The following is an excerpt from the "Deat Updates" I sent to our family and friends:
Dr. Matthews spent quite some time asking us about Deat's health history, and carefully explained to us that Deat was suffering from kidney insufficiency. Serious, but not life threatening, very treatable. He said he wanted to admit Deat to the hospital immediately in hopes that some intensive intravenous steroid therapy might "kick-start" his kidneys into functioning again. He explained that if they only regained a small amount of function, that we could go ahead and start the process for a kidney transplant and hopefully avoid dialysis.From his office we went directly to the hospital... I think I called Deat's parents from there. As soon as Deat was settled in, I had to leave to make arrangements, and dang it my cell phone was almost dead so I remember I went to the local Radio Shack and bought a charger (funny the goofy things you remember) so I could call my Mom and my sister Jeannie was at Mom's house so I spoke to her also.
I remember when I told Jeannie Deat's creat and BUN levels, she said "And he was WALKING AROUND?" Mom also told me she was pretty certain that they would admit him when I had told her the levels the day before, but she didn't want to scare me so that was why she had told me to go with him.
I don't remember much else about that day... I know I went to L-town and back to S-townt (maybe to get Deat some things for the hospital, probably) and back to L-town to be with the girls. I remember noting that they had an excellent coffee shop at the hospital and I would make use of it. I don't remember if I had family at the house that night, but I'm pretty sure I did... but I don't remember if it was Mom, and/or Jeannie, and/or my in-laws. I think I was on auto-pilot... so many i's to be dotted and t's to be crossed, and the surge of adrenaline that comes from fear of the unknown.
I know I drove back to the hospital in my truck early the next morning, and that around 10:30 Deat looked at me and said "Listen, there's nothing you can do here, and I know you have renewals to run here in S-town, go out and get some work done," so I complied.
After I got off the hospital campus, I called my friend Kevin P. Kevin is an NFIB rep in Georgia, and one of the most Godly men I know. I jokingly say when I grow up I want to be just like Kevin... when he starts talking about the Lord, you just want to jump up and yell, "YAAAAY GOD!!!!"
When he answered, he said he was in a member's office waiting for the member to come in to meet with him but he had a few minutes.
"Kevin, I need a prayer warrior."
"What's up?"
I quickly summarized the events of the past couple days... and that was all Kevin needed.
He began "Father God, you said where ever to come together in your name and agree you would answer, well Kelly and I agree..." and launched into a heartfelt and inspirational prayer. (In a member's office, waiting for the member to come in... did I mention that I LOVE Kevin Parker?)
I don't remember all of it, but I do remember his saying, "And Father God, give Kelly peace," and it was immediate. Right at that second, every bit of tension fell from my shoulders and I knew God was with me and that He would get me through whatever was coming. And God did, and God has, and God will continue to do so.
Yesterday I had decided that I would write the above to be my blog entry for today. I checked my Facebook earlier and noticed I had been "tagged" in one of those "fill in the blanks" notes over there, but thinking I may have already filled that one out, I quickly went through my notes to check. I found an entry in my notes from earlier this year that qualifies as a "blog post" and since I wanted all of my entries to be "here" I decided to copy/paste it. Strange how that works... I needed to be reminded of what I said "then" today.
So here's that entry:
February 3, 2009, 8 p.m.
FEAR
I noticed in a friend's notes today that she listed her greatest fear as "losing someone I love." My immediate thought was to try to think of words to help quiet that fear for her. Fear is a horrible feeling, and I know that particular fear very well. I've been saying for months now that fear is wasted energy – after all, my fear, losing my husband and our marriage, actually happened; but I'm surviving; I'm here; I'm okay. How could I share that with her in a way that made sense?
Pondering this question made me realize I needed to adjust my position on fear. I began realizing some of the reasons that I am better off than I might have been. I am free of so many of the burdens other widows carry, and fear was part of the answer.
Several years ago, Deat and I came to a place where neither one of us was particularly happy in our marriage. We had no major complaints, and we had decided from the beginning that divorce was quite simply, never going to be an option to consider. During that time, the idea of spending the rest of our lives on the road we were on was a scary prospect too.
I was blessed in that fear; it motivated me to seek ways to improve our marriage. We decided to get back to the basics: The vows said "and forsaking all others," so we learned how to really apply that in our lives. We made a conscious point to put one another first. They said "love, honor and cherish" and we noted that they did not say "unless you don't feel like it.' so we made a point to be kinder to one another... to find kind words to say about the things we appreciated in one another, even when the things we didn't appreciate so much seemed glaring. Those simple steps made a huge difference in how we viewed one another and our marriage. It's hard to hold grudges against someone who is making a point to tell and show you how he loves you.
The other fear: losing my husband to Lupus. I knew when we married that it could begin flaring again. After 8 smooth years, the fear had subsided somewhat, but with his hospitalization in July 2007, that fear returned one hundred-fold. As that journey began, I sought every avenue I could to prevent that fear from happening... I kept a database of all his medications (as many as 12-14 at a time); I kept every lab organized in a folder; I kept a calendar of all his appointments, attended every doctors' appointment, kept fastidious notes on every word every doctor (He had 8) said to us. I prayed, we prayed, I prayed some more. In the last weeks, I believed he would get better, but as he became weaker and more miserable, I was more afraid that he wouldn't.
In the end, (February 23, 2008) none of these things kept my husband alive. His autopsy showed that the one detail I "thought" I had missed would not have changed the outcome. He may have lived for a brief while longer, but his suffering would only have been worse. In the end, my fear was realized. So for some time afterward, I believed that fear was pointless... it didn't change anything. Losing him, as I expected, has hurt worse than anything I have ever experienced.
However, there are so many more sorrows that I was able to avoid. I know with certainty that Deat died knowing how much I loved him... there were no words left unsaid. I know with certainty that I did everything I possibly could to help him heal. I have no regrets in either of those areas; I have no "if only" questions to nag at me. I know that God will care for the girls and me always, just as He did during Deat's illness... in my fear, and Deat's, we turned to Him and learned where true peace lies. I know Deat is now well, happy and whole, free from the myriad of ways his body betrayed him, and he was able to let go of this life with the same assurance that God would care for us in his absence.
I've wondered these many months why God would allow us to have an emotion like fear, in it's most basic form it seems to be one of the most terrible of all emotions. It can paralyze you, if you allow it. However, I wouldn't know any of these things I mentioned if I had not been so afraid. I've decided that fear is a good thing if it spurs you to change your habits, if it motivates you to action.
So, that's my message for my friend who harbors a similar fear to the one I carried all those months, and to any of you who carry it with you now. Act on that fear, even if your situation doesn't make the prospect loom close. Let it remind you to appreciate the little things in your spouse, your children, your parents, your siblings, your friends. Make sure you tell them the things they need to know. Use that fear to protect those who need protecting, and to let go of those who need to be let go.
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