The title from today’s blog is taken from the book by Dr. Seuss entitled “Oh, the places you will go.”

Last Sunday, I went to see my mother at the UERM. She has been in the Pasig City General Hospital since April 19, 2012.  She was admitted for abdominal pains.  She underwent surgery on early Sunday Morning, April 22.  She has been in the ICU of the Pasig City General Hospital since then. Her abdominal complaint and all the complications of surgery have been resolved but she developed a lung infection.

On May 9, 2012, she was transferred to the UERM. She spent a few days in a regular room but hooked up to a ventilator.  She is now in the ICU.  She is being treated for a lung infection.

On Sunday, Mother’s Day, they started weaning her off her ventilator.  They took her off the ventilator for five minutes.  She breathed on her own.  The resident said that it was progress but she also noted that her respiratory rate per minute was 30. This meant (I gathered) that she was taking 30 breaths every minute, roughly, one breath every two seconds.  She was hyperventilating.

They rested her for 55 minutes.  They put her back on the respirator and her respiratory rate normalized.  After an hour, they weaned her off again, this time for ten minutes.  She was ok, she breathed on her own and her respiratory rate went down to 29.  The resident said that that was progress.

Just after I left, she had been weaned again, this time for fifteen minutes.  They stopped at 15 minutes.  It was enough exercise for her lungs for one day.  They wanted to begin again the next morning for twenty minutes.  She finished her 20 minutes but the doctor came by on his rounds and checked her blood count.  Her hemoglobin count was low.  She needed a transfusion and so the weaning had to be postponed.

My mother had a gastric tube through her nose that went down to her stomach.  She was fed through this.  She also had a tube through her mouth that went down to her lungs.  She breathed through this. The tube in her nose is secured by tape as was the tube in her mouth.  The tape is itchy so my mom tries to scratch the area. Her hand trembles as she tries to touch her nose or mouth with her left hand. Her right hand is bound by tape to a splint to secure her IV line.

When I was there, they suctioned out her lungs.  They stuck a smaller tube down through the breathing tube.  The small tube was attached to a suction machine. As they took out fluid from her lungs, my mother’s face got bright red, she shut her eyes tight and her body was contorted.  She was coughing and coughing but without sound.  Tears were welling up in her eyes from the effort of coughing.

When I arrived, I touched her and smiled at her, she looked at me vacantly, smiled a bit and promptly closed her eyes to sleep. I didn’t try to talk to her.  She seemed tired. I asked her if she recognized my son. She shook her head and went back to sleep.

My mother had hematoma on her arms.  She had edema and the pressure of the water retention caused some small veins in her arms to pop.

Soon the nurses came and the nurses of UERM are among the cheeriest and friendliest I have ever met.  They chatted up my mom.  They chatted me up. They were all oooohing and aaahing about how pretty and mestiza she was. They were surprised to know that her maiden name was Cagandahan. They volunteered to put make-up on her!

That exchange with the nurses was a respite.

I had been feeling very frustrated lately; frustrated mainly that my mother’s progress is marked by one step forward two steps back.  I am also frustrated with the uncertainty. We are in the waiting place….

We do not know if she’s going to get well or if she will suddenly turn for the worse. It’s like a roller coaster.  I like riding on a roller coaster but this is because I know that the ride will end after a few minutes.  All the thrills, the loops and the stomach lurching will all come to an end and my feet will once again be on firm ground.  My mother’s hospitalization is a roller coaster with no certain end in sight. (Maybe there is an end but I just refuse to deal with  that prospect).  So we are in a waiting place….

My husband is under medication.  His stomach ache is not as bad as before.  But his health has also been a roller coaster ride since February.  My roller coaster ride with my health has been going on since April 2011! We are in the waiting place…

Maybe this is a metaphor…we are waiting for the adoption of sons, we are waiting for the appearing of the great God and Savior Jesus Christ, we are waiting to see Him as He is.

Frankly, I am very tired.  My eyes are dry (I think I’ve finally cried my eyes out!). I wish I had strong emotions to dam up, but I don’t.  I am not in anguish (I am usually in emotional anguish when I am in a crisis.) I feel nothing.  I am not afraid, I am not sad, I am not angry…..I am in suspended animation….I am in the waiting place……

I wish to apologize to my students who have been bombarding me with sweet messages of comfort and support…..I have not been responding…..I have no strength at the moment to engage in that.  I am in a waiting place……..

I have been in the waiting place before.  This is not new. I know better than to cry and rant.  I know better than to complain. I have to learn patience and trust. I have to learn to let things go and get serious with my waiting….. it is at this time that God has something to say.  In the waiting place, God is waiting for me to stop thinking and to just be still and know that He is God.  Lord, I am waiting………