Katelyn update. Katelyn has developed an infection that’s going to keep her hospitalized for another week or so. Karin also thinks Katelyn may have had a couple of seizures, so she’s concerned. She’s not out of the woods yet.
It’s time.
I’m back. I needed some time to sort everything out, regroup, and, well, be something resembling a typical 27-year-old. And thanks to Dan Bowman for pointing out some of the facilities Greymatter has to take care of problems. I’d never felt the need to look for them. But now I know. And should those fail, Apache also has facilities as well. It’s good to be root.
As for Katelyn, I’ve learned to assume that no news is good news. Brad didn’t call me at all on Wednesday, and I saw him at a meeting Wednesday night and we talked, but he didn’t mention anything about her. That means no unexpected changes, which is never a bad thing.
A story. I think I’ll just wrap things up with a story. I went and saw Luke Tuesday night. Luke talked about how people sometimes treat him because of his MDA, which confines him to a wheelchair. It was so sad. Stupid. Pointless. It reminded me of something that happened a few years ago.
I was in college. I was in a fraternity. During my junior year, a young man visited us for dinner. This wasn’t uncommon; people who were interested in the house often visited for dinner. We’d show them around, answer their questions, and whatnot. What was unusual was that this young man had a condition–polio, if memory serves–that left his legs immobile, so he walked with crutches. He moved along just fine. As I recall, he even went upstairs to get the grand tour. There was some concern that if he did move in, he’d always have to live on the second floor, as opposed to the third, to minimize the amount of climbing he’d have to do. But that wasn’t a really big deal.
He left, and someone called a meeting. So there we were, the actives, sitting in the dining room. We talked about him a little, then one guy stood up and spoke.
“You do know that if he does move in here, one of you guys has to room with him.”
“What’s wrong with that, Frank?” I asked.
“Well, I’m not gonna room with him. There’s something wrong with him. Would you want to room with him?”
I pointed at one of the guys sitting at the table with Frank. “Look at Gotsch,” I said. “He’s handicapped in a way, right? His hand’s in a cast, and he can’t do everything you and I can do. And you know what? It’s his own fault his hand’s in a cast, due to his own stupidity punching a wall. Does anyone think any less of him? That guy–” and I motioned outside–“didn’t do anything to cause his handicap. I don’t think any less of him. He can room with me.”
I paused and looked at Frank.
“Assuming he’d be willing to live around someone like you.”
I guess he wasn’t willing, because he never came back. And a big part of me was glad. Not that I didn’t want a roommate–I didn’t want someone to have to go through that garbage.
A couple months later, I moved out too.
Update on Katelyn
Brad called me late on Wednesday with an update. They’ve taken Katelyn off her pain medication, which included morphine, and she’s struggling with the pain and withdrawal. Brad said she cried for a 17-hour stretch. It’s good that she’s strong and healthy enough to be able to do that, but heartbreaking that she would hurt enough to do that.
Katelyn’s out of ICU!
There is lots of news on Katelyn, and almost all of it is good. Katelyn got out of ICU today. They removed all the tubes from her, except her feeding tube, which she has always had. She’s in a private room, and the doctors say she ought to be able to go home in 2-5 days!
Her lungs still have not cleared completely, but with everything else going well, the doctors are less worried about it now. She still will not eat on her own, which is why the food tube is still there, but she has never eaten on her own so that is probably understandable.
Katelyn is improving
Dave says Katelyn’s color is back to normal, they removed a breathing tube, and she’s doing much better!! The scare from Saturday was just one doctor’s opinion, not Katelyn’s doctor, based on chest xrays and nothing else. John and Karin said they’re hoping she might get to come home this week. There is still room for complications but things look a lot better now.
Dave said one of the people in the group is a nurse who used to assist in heart surgery. She said that even 10 years ago, people with Katelyn’s condition just didn’t survive.
Update on Katelyn
Dave reports slow but measurable progress on Katelyn. He also verified the spelling of her name. The doctors removed a tube yesterday relating to breathing. The last Dave heard, there’s been progress and there’ve been setbacks, but the general trend has been forward. A group from the church is going to visit Katelyn’s parents, John and Karin, tonight. Dave may join them.
A reminder from your sponsor…
Just a reminder, for those who seem to have forgotten. I produce the content on this site. I write it, edit it, and post it. I usually sink far more time into it than I should. I don’t make any money off it, other than the occasional sale through an Amazon link, which usually amounts to $15-$20 per year. But making money was never my intent.
This is a hobby. I write about what I feel like writing about, when I feel like writing about it, how I feel like writing about it.
I don’t owe you anything. Nobody is forcing you to read this. Nor have I ever solicited donations, and I don’t have any plans to start.
I’d like to think I usually produce decent-quality stuff. Some days are worse than others. It’s not easy to come up with new and insightful and interesting stuff every day, which is why sane writers take a day or two per week off. And sometimes I run out of time, so I call it done and post it, figuring whatever I can give you is better than nothing.
I guess I was wrong about that.
This is a difficult time. I don’t know what people want me to write about right now, and frankly I don’t give a rip. Yeah, I’m moody, and yeah, I’m a bit down, and I’ve got a (mostly) one-track mind. You can deal with that, or you can join that small band of readers who’ve decided to be part of the problem. Faced with having to choose between not giving a rip about my neighbor or not giving a rip about your computer problem (or not being thorough enough for your tastes), the decision will be the easiest one I ever made in my life.
I’ll be back when I bloody feel like it. And not a nanosecond sooner.
That faith thing.
I talked to Brad again last night, since Brad’s my go-between to Katie’s family, whom I hardly know (and who have absolutely zero time to be talking on the phone right now–they talk to Brad and let Brad talk to the rest of the Oakville gang, then my little tidbits go out to who-knows-where).
Dan Bowman forwarded some comments from a nurse that were encouraging. I passed those on to Brad. I read him the comments from yesterday’s post. Brad asked me if I’d print him a copy to keep. I set some sort of land-speed record hitting ctrl-p. (Mice are for wimps.)
And I got to thinking aloud about that huge plan God’s got again. He knows twelve billion people better than I’ll ever know any single human being. I’m not even certain I can tell you who I sat next to in church last Sunday. I certainly can’t tell you all the names of the people immediately in front of me and behind me. God knows all the hows and whys and therefores about them.
One summer I sat down and wrote out on paper an algorithm that I could translate into a computer language and simulate a baseball game. Alternatively, I could do the math using a calculator and some dice. Run it 162 times for each team in a league, and I could simulate a baseball season. I could tell you what 48 players might do in a single game, what 624 players might do over the course of 162 games. I was pretty proud of myself for figuring that out.
So I could figure out what might happen if the Royals were to somehow pry Rafael Palmeiro away from the Texas Rangers. But God knows what would happen. No questions about it. And He knows how it would affect quality of life, and even if it would affect operation of a stoplight across the Kansas border in Olathe for some bizarre reason.
And He knows about the things that really do matter. I can simulate something as trivial and, as much as it pains me to say it, unimportant as a baseball game. It stretches my little brain to its limits, but I can describe it mathematically. I can’t even begin to do that with a human life.
Knowledge is power. He’s got the monopoly on both of them. Good thing He’s on my side. Yours too.
So why do I find myself not trusting Him all the time? It doesn’t make any sense.
I guess if I ever needed any proof that I’m human, I just got it.
Another update.
1/2/02, 7:00 pm. Katie/Katelyn/Kaitlyn (I still don’t know how they spell it) has been out of surgery for about four hours. She survived the surgery and it didn’t last as long as they expected. She’s breathing on her own, and they were able to take the oxygen level down from 100% to 41%, which is good news. Her color is good, which is good news. The bad news is she has more fluid on the lungs than she should have.
More on Katie…
Brad called me last night. I was about 3/4 asleep, but he woke me up pretty fast. Katie (her real name is Katelyn, but I’m not sure how she spells it so I cheat) had tests yesterday. There wasn’t anything good that came of them. She’s sick, with a virus. Illness and surgery aren’t a good combination. That’s just common sense. There’s more hardening around her heart than they expected, which will make the surgery harder. And there’s a growth around her heart, so they’ll have to go in again in six months to a year. And (I’m getting sick of that word) the part of her heart that needs to function for anesthesia to work normally doesn’t. I’m getting this third-hand, so I don’t know if that makes any sense or not.
The odds are stacked way too heavily against her.
Brad was pretty down about it. A lot of people are. I am too.
“Maybe the surgery isn’t supposed to happen tomorrow,” I said at some point. Hey, I don’t know.
Brad asked if stuff like this makes me question my faith. Absolutely it does. Then I got philosophical. What else was there to do? Besides pray, that is. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind.
From the dawn of civilization to today, more than twelve billion people have lived. Twelve billion people! And God knows all of their names. Not only that, He knows everything about those people, down to how many hairs are/were on their head. God knows when they lived, and He knows why. And He can run all the possible scenarios in His head. Someday I can ask God, “What if I’d lived in Israel during the time of Jesus? Would I have followed Him?” and God will know the answer!
It’s pretty easy to determine when we’ll die. The instant we’re worth more to God dead than alive, it’s over. We’re gone.
Brad and I can imagine scenarios where Katelyn is worth a whole lot more to God alive than dead. What if she went in and beat all those odds, then 15 years from now, stood in front of a group of people and told her story?
God knows the answer to that what-if. He knows who would be there, and who would react in what way. God also knows what would happen if He miraculously healed her, instead of letting her go into surgery. And God knows exactly how much pain and grief He would save her by pulling her out of the game and taking her home at any given point.
Meanwhile, I’m trying to get over that bit about God knowing more than 12 billion names. I do well to remember five. Not five billion. Five. So I need to trust Him.
I told Brad about a surgery I never had. I was in second grade. I had a bad case of tonsilitis. Not as bad as my sister had about the same time, but bad enough I was missing school. The day before I was scheduled to go into surgery, my doctor checked me up one last time. He looked in my throat, and where he’d previously seen walnuts, he saw two normal tonsils. “They look good to me,” he said. “Let’s just leave them there and see what happens.”
What happened was nothing. It’s 20 years later, and I’ve still got ’em. I missed a few days of school since then, but never on account of a sore throat.
Miracle? Who knows? And why was God doing me any favors? Who knows? Am I worth that much more with my tonsils intact? Only God knows. He knew that 20 years later, I’d need some reason to trust Him. For all I know, that’s the only reason.
God can do for Katelyn’s heart what He did for my tonsils. Or He can do something else.
Please excuse me while I go talk to Him.