It was a close run thing…

“It was a close-run thing!” 

This arrangement of words is often used by our British friends to describe what the rest of us might simply call a “close call.” The phrase was first uttered in 1815 by the Duke of Wellington as he spoke with a colleague about his recent victory at Waterloo.

The Duke reportedly said, “It was the nearest run thing you ever saw in your life.”  Over the years ordinary folk have shortened the Duke’s verbiage to simply “a close-run thing.”   The idea of relief at a “close call” remains.

Joyce just had a “close run thing.”

September took us to Scotland to spend time with Ashley and her family. We returned on Oct 14. On arrival at Chicago’s O’Hare, Angela and Zayne graciously picked us up. Did I mention it was a bit after midnight Chicago time? When making our Scotland trips, we typically stay with Jeff and Angela for a few days, getting over our jetlag before heading home to the Oklahoma Panhandle. 

Toward the end of our few days with Jeff and Angela, Joyce began feeling unwell. I had returned from the old country with a cough and runny nose, not feeling very well myself, something I was certain I had picked up from someone on the plane.  Our assumption was Joyce was catching the same thing. 

She began feeling worse and Angela wanted to take her to one of the many emergency medicine facilities in the area, but she could not be persuaded to go. She is like that, she would insist that someone else feeling bad should go, but not herself. As Joyce and I drove west, she continued to feel worse. By the time we arrived home, she did not feel well at all. Her face, especially the left side was becoming very red and splotchy, looking almost swollen. She could not retain any food or water, had no energy, and spent her time curled up on the couch.

Joyce is not good at not feeling good if you know what I mean. In addition, she likes to have things tidied up and put away no matter how tired or bad she feels. I knew she was not feeling well for sure when she made no attempt to even start unpacking any of our cases.

This is not the Joyce I know. Normally she would have had everything unpacked within hours of our arrival, or by at least the next morning, and both the washer and dryer would have been running.

But she was still on the couch!

She remained there, alternately shivering and sweating, eating nothing and drinking little for most of the next few days. Obviously, a doctor was needed.

As we both had not been feeling well when we arrived home on the evening of November 20th, we decided we should both see a doctor. It was late in the day and the next day was Saturday. We would call for an appointment on Monday. I was sure we would both feel better with a few days rest over the weekend.

That was true for me. I did feel much better, but Joyce did not. Her face was getting redder and redder, she could barely walk down the hall and still spent most of her time curled up on the couch.

The earliest doctor’s appointment Joyce could get was the next day, Tuesday, at 4 in the afternoon. 

On that afternoon, I managed to get her to the clinic. Dr. Appling, having seen Joyce just before we left for Scotland, said he was anticipating hearing stories from her trip. Instead, he was shocked when he saw the person before him in his office. After a thorough examination he said none of what he was hearing and seeing made any sense. He said he would need blood work, hoping that might provide a clue.

It was late in the day and the lab was already closed. Dr. Appling said, “I just don’t feel comfortable sending you home without blood tests.” A wise decision as it turns out.

We checked in at the Emergency Room for the blood tests. It is now after 5 pm in the evening. 

Some time passed with the check-in process, blood samples were taken, and we awaited the results. A bit later, the ER doctor came to her room, leaned against the counter, and said, “you’re in kidney failure, we need to get you to a hospital with a kidney guy… we’re working on that!”  Many things go rushing through your mind when you hear such words. 

A daughter Aspen lives in Wichita, and with her work she has excellent contacts in the medical community so that seemed a logical choice. In the emergency room however they were not asking where we wanted to go, that’s not how it works.  Aspen said, “tell them to bring her to Wichita!”  So, I did, I told them. They had already checked Wichita and nearby Andover, and there were no available beds. Who would have thought?

I was thinking geographically and moving on down the map I said, “how about Tulsa?”  The nurse told me, “I have an accepting facility and I really can’t keep checking other places.” 

The “accepting facility” was Northwest Texas Hospital in Amarillo. We would soon be heading to Amarillo.

Standing there in the Emergency Room, and hearing the words “Amarillo,” gave me a mental flashback. When Joyce and I were dating, there was a pub in Dundee we frequented, called The Small World. A gentleman played the guitar and sang most evenings. 

Being far from home, I always described where I am from geographically as “130 miles north of Amarillo,” the gentleman had heard me say that. When Joyce and I would go there, he would always sing Tony Christie’s, Is This The Way To Amarillo? So here we are, headed yet again to…Amarillo.

Amarillo was not the most convenient place for all concerned, but in hindsight it was Providential. Northwest Texas Hospital in Amarillo had a “kidney guy… and a room! It turns out their “kidney guy” was a kidney lady named Doctor Esther.

Still in Liberal, and approaching yet another midnight, the flight team arrived to get Joyce ready for her flight. The Flight Medic introduced himself to me and said he had been a colleague of our daughter Angela’s from her Paramedic days in Liberal. Mike said, “I’ll take good care of her!” 

Joyce had been complaining of being cold. As I watched them place her on the flight gurney and zip her into what looked like an aluminum blanket. I told her she would soon be warm. They had her looking like a baked potato as they wheeled her toward the waiting ambulance. It was now really close to midnight.

In our almost two weeks of hospital care we discovered that when God is involved, it never really is a “close-run thing?”  It might appear that way to us, but it is not that way with Him.

At NWT Hospital Dr. Esther, along with Dr. Saadaldin treated Joyce as if she were the only patient they had.

We prayed; countless others prayed. Many in faraway Scotland also prayed.

What we saw as a “close-run thing” was just God at work in various ways and for various reasons in both our lives. We are better for it.

As I mentioned earlier, Amarillo was not convenient for our family, one daughter lives near Chicago, another in Wichita, the other in Scotland.

The late hour at which decisions needed to be made was no problem for them. The next thing I knew I was being told someone would drive me to Amarillo. I felt myself completely capable of driving to Amarillo, and did so early the next morning, finding Joyce in the much sought-after room, but not looking much better. But that was before Dr. Esther and Dr. Saadaldin had an opportunity to go to work.

Our three daughters provided then and continued to provide now exemplary support. Angela in Deer Park IL assumed the role of NOC, (Network Operations Control) making sure everyone, no matter the continent or time zone, knew what was going on.

Aspen was soon on her way from Wichita, driving through Hooker to pick up things from the house that would be handy for our now extended stay.

Aspen, spending nights at the hospital with her Mom stayed in Amarillo until Ashley arrived from Scotland late on the 29^th.

Would it have been better had Joyce followed Angela’s suggestion and gone to an ER near her house? Maybe, maybe not.  We will never know. God had other plans.

It was extremely helpful to have three daughters, a former paramedic, a Doctor of Physical Therapy and an MD interpret medicalese so that an ordinary person like myself could sort of understand it.

Joyce’s care at NWT was amazing. From the lady who cleaned the rooms, all the way up to Dr. Esther they were superb! The nurses and nurse techs were outstanding. I caught myself looking for a reason just to need something just so we could call one of them just to visit. They all had amazing personal stories and we felt as if we were being cared for by people who really cared. That is rare in today’s “me first” society.

Dr. Saadaldin, Joyce’s hospitalist, was a pleasure to visit with every morning. I found myself getting around earlier at the hotel in the mornings just so I would not miss his morning rounds. He said he left Joyce to the last in his rounds so we could all have a longer visit.

Now we are back at home. Any sunrise or sunset images on Instagram are from my own windows, not an east or west looking fourth floor window in Amarillo. And sadly, no staff person wheeling a medical device comes to check on Joyce to see if we need anything. If we need something we have to get it ourselves. But we are getting by just fine. Jim and Marion kept us well supplied with meals and Ashley came home with us and stayed a while to provide in-house medical advice and her sisters called for welfare checks and discussions on medical issues.

Ashley left a couple of days before Thanksgiving to spend Thanksgiving with her family in Scotland and get back to her medical work at Ninewells Hospital in Dundee. Angela and Zayne came from Deer Park and Aspen, Camden, and Tenley came from Wichita and Elijah, Ashley’s son from Scotland who is visiting in the States was here as well to enjoy an extra special Thanksgiving.

Follow-up appointments have been good, and now it is just me and Grandma again and we’re fine with that. 

Initial testing and diagnosis in the hospital indicated Joyce would be doing dialysis three days a week at an outpatient facility in Liberal KS indefinitely. But before we left the hospital that had already changed! She will need no continuing dialysis and our time of leaving the hospital was delayed briefly to wait for the removal of the port that had been placed for the ongoing dialysis. Then we headed home.

God had been at work in our lives the whole time.

A few days ago, Joyce drove herself downtown for physical therapy, the first time she has driven since before we left for Scotland in mid-September.

We started this with an older English phrase, permit me to end with another.

Joyce is “on the mend.”

The term “mend” comes from Middle English “menden” meaning “to repair.”

We are being repaired medically, physically, and spiritually.

Thanks for your prayers, thoughts, and concerns on our behalf.