A something/anything post, from the Dialysis Chair…
On dialysis days my alarm goes off at 04:15 hours. But I don’t often need it.
I’m awake already, journaling, having tossed and turned amidst a few stretches of sleep.
This morning was one of those days. At 03:15, after an intense dream about a fire in a 19-story building (at which my job was to run from floor to floor sounding the alarm and giving the slow-moving residents updates), I gave up and got up.
My thoughts turned to March, 2008. To ten years ago, today.
It was a Saturday, and I was working on a memorial photo-video keepsake. For my mom.
I wasn’t a believer then. I knew little about salvation.
My family was gathered in Florida, my sibs and I each arriving that Tuesday night from MACOFLAZ. We’d been called down because Mom had asked to go to the hospital. She knew.
We saw her late that night, then went home with Dad. Mom went home early the next morning.
I believe she hung on until we – her husband and kids, and her twin sister – until we got there. She was unresponsive, hooked up to every machine available, but somehow she knew.
Seeing her was a shock to me- the zap that set me on this recovery journey. I remember it well.
I’d seen her the previous July, and she’d looked good. But that night, I could barely recognize the thin, blue patient in that hospital bed.
The memorial service was on Monday, St Patrick’s day.
A constant in my life was gone. It was the first of many, which I now write about on Sharing God’s Story.
…to be continued