Have you ever thought, "This is the worst day of my life?" I'm sure many of us have. Flat tires, bad hair days, unruly children, or just the days where Murphy's law prevails, and you wonder what else can go wrong. I'd thought that many times before. Until November 2, 2016. This is the worst day of my life. Flashback - The time is around 9am. My eyes are foggy and struggle to open, but I am determined and eager to get out of bed. I need to get out of here now. I wake up in a hotel on 72nd street in Omaha, NE, and I'm absolutely exhausted from lack of sleep and the stress from the day before. I had gotten to the hotel around 2am, but as mentally and physically exhausted as I was, I couldn't sleep. I quickly get dressed, and find my parents who were staying at the hotel next door. They were up and ready to go. I need to get out of here now. Omaha driving wasn't my thing back then - I grew up in rural Nebraska, and the biggest traffic jam I'd encountered up to that point was a tractor driving down Highway 10 at a steady 30 MPH. My parents drove me to the hospital. The day before was the day that I had been dreading for weeks - my husband had to have a serious, risky operation to fix a botched operation from another hospital. We had already been through a long road, and this was just more than I could handle. His surgery was to last 5-6 hours, and I had plenty of support with me. In the days prior, I had called my pastor, asking for guidance and bible verses to help me get through this trying time. My favorite verse he suggested was Philippians 4:6-7, and I had it memorized and was chanting it through my head throughout the day. It was my mantra. With few updates from the operating room, the 5-6 hour mark had long passed. My dear husband was in surgery for over 15 hours. When the surgeon finally came out to talk to us in the early hours of the next day, she said the surgery was a success, but she had to redo the procedure a couple times in order to make it a success. She told us to go home and get some rest, and to see Tyler in the morning. I felt so guilty for waking up at 9am. I had wanted to be at the hospital earlier - I had wanted to stay with him - but the ICU rooms were just too small, and his condition was too poor. When I finally got to his room up on the 9th floor, I walked in and saw someone who wasn't my husband. Yes, Tyler was laying in the bed, but I had never fathomed seeing him like that. He was bandaged from head to toe and high on pain pills. When I first saw him, it took every ounce of me not to break down and cry. This isn't the man I married - he's strong, and the foundation and rock of our family. I reached to grab his hand, and his eyes opened and he smiled at me. He had told me he had been wondering where I was at. He had asked the nurses why I wasn't here. Those were the most painful words I had ever heard. He had wanted me there, and I had gone to the hotel to get some sleep. Yes, I needed to get some rest, but hearing the man who's my everything needing me so desperately just ripped me to shreds. I teared up, and held his hand closer. I remember so vividly in that moment wanting to crawl in bed and have him hold me. My rock. Holding me and telling me everything would be alright. That's all I wanted in that moment, but all I could do is hold his hand. The male nurse came in to readjust him to prevent bed sores. So. Much. Pain. The well-meaning nurse was very sympathetic, and kept saying "I'm so sorry, bud." Bud. I had never heard anyone talk to my husband like that before - maybe when he was ten - but this was my husband - the strongest man I know. Those words stung my ears, and showered down a plethora of emotions upon me. Hearing those words insinuated weakness to me - something that I had never associated with my husband before. I sat by Tyler's side all day, until nightfall, when I needed to go back to the hotel. The ICU room was too tiny - his hospital bed took up 90% of the room, and my basic chair took up the rest. I hated to leave him; worried about possible failure of the operation, or worse. Back at the hotel and the days to come, I pictured myself in my happy place. Sounds corny, right? I would sit there, zoned out, and picturing myself out of that November hospital room, and to Memorial Day weekend of the next year, where we would go to Keller Park. Keller Park - a state recreation area on Highway 183, about 8 miles south of Springview, Nebraska. My mom and dad discovered this hidden oasis hidden deep in a canyon full of pine trees, with Bone Creek, a spring-fed creek running through it with a quaint walking bridge running over it. It was our favorite place to camp - it was never full, and so peaceful. Since I loved it so much, I coaxed Tyler to take his parent's camper up there, and he fell in love with the peacefulness and beautiful landscape just like I did. We enjoyed fishing the trout ponds and exploring the park. My happy place. Tyler was in the hospital 9 long days to recover from that operation. We went to Keller park that next Memorial weekend, and it was the most extraordinary weekend I've spent with family. Keller Park holds a very significant place in my heart. We've been busy working on the Little White House this summer. I've posted pictures of our bedroom renovation, and we're currently in the midst of a bathroom un-model - taking it back to original 1920. This is the quickest summer I've ever experienced - I have one week left before I start my in-service days to get ready for my new upcoming fifth graders. We usually are able to make a trip to Keller every year, but it just wasn't in the cards for this summer. Well....maybe not. Bathrooms can wait. I texted Tyler around 10 on Thursday at work, and told him I had a crazy idea - he should take off at noon, and I'd get the camper ready, and we'd spend a 3 day weekend at Keller. He was game. By 4pm that day, we had the camper set up and were relaxed at my happy place. My soul-healing place. My parents were even able to join us! Every time we pull into that campground, I feel complete. Our weekend went by so quick, but I am so thankful that God has granted us another year to enjoy a trip to Keller Park. Every time I'm up there, you can bet that all those feelings from November 2, 2016 come flooding back to me, and still present themselves to be so real. It's a reminder to me that God heals, God answers prayers, and God is with us. My strong husband is back, he's still the rock of our family, and I thank God every night that he can once again hold me, and tell me that everything will be alright. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4 : 6-7
1 Comment
Mom
8/4/2019 05:19:17 pm
Crying again. You,your husband and those little boys mean the World to me. Along with my son and family and my other daughter and family, Wow!!! Awesomeness. God Blessed us and still does, everyday. Love you all, Mom.
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Kathryn HollandWife. Mother. Teacher. Lifelong student. Archives
March 2022
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