Sunday night at 10 o’clock is typically when our son calls to provide the ‘update on the week.’ It’s a tradition that dates back to my college days… when there weren’t texting or emailing or mobiles. There was a black rotary phone in our dorm room – where I lived for three years – and the Sunday night calls were how my parents knew I was alive, attending classes and the cash my dad handed me on the last trip home hadn’t run out.
So when the phone rang at 10:20 p.m. last Sunday, I perked up from a nap-before-bed and said hello. When I heard my sister’s voice, I thought, “This isn’t good.”
Ann told me she was following an ambulance and that my brother-in-law was inside it. She was calm and steady – and after a few minutes said they would let us know an update when they had news. A half-hour later, the phone awakened me again. This time my brother, who had met her at the hospital, said, “Just want you to know, Brad is resting comfortably. Didn’t want you to worry.” Kathy and I slept well.
Monday began an anxious week… filled with update calls and texts…
Brad collapsed at home. Ann performed CPR. Called 911. Ambulance arrived in 15 minutes. No heart attack. Blood clots in lung and legs. ICU. Machines connected. Could be fatal. Blood thinners. RBC dropping. Stabilizing. Released to room. Improving.
We are a close family of faith that has experienced many joys and heartaches. Those moments bind us together – appreciative of each day and knowing another challenge will rise to greet us somewhere down the road. Ann’s last text message – “We are home!” – gave this one a happy ending.
