Reflection

It's 10:20 pm, my house is finally quiet, and I am reflecting on the entire day. It started with me waking up to the steady pattering of rain on the concrete outside my window early this morning.  I felt peaceful and I had a feeling we would have a good day.  After getting the kids off to school, we came home for a short time before the school called for me to come pick up Kylie.  She was in the health office with a cough and I knew how a coughing child could be a distraction for the teacher.  Luckily Andrew agreed to babysit Kylie so we could leave on time for Steve's doctor appointment.

We made our way up to USC University Hospital, a trip, I explained to Steve, that I felt like I had done a hundred times.  In a strangely familiar way, it felt like going home.  As I pulled into the parking structure, I pointed out to Steve where I had often parked.  So many times, when I would pull in late at night, the very first parking spot, pole position my brother would call it, was available so I always considered that my personal parking spot.  After parking, we made our way to the doctor's office.  For the entire walk from the car, we talked about so many of the details of the routine I had carved out for myself, things I did to give myself a sense of security in the midst of my private pandemonium.

The office was beautiful, modern and clean, and the nurse practitioner was pleasant.  When Doctor Vincent L. Rowe walked in, I didn't recognize him at all.  I guess I never met the man which is not surprising since I couldn't have been with Steve 24/7 and the doctors made rounds at the most unreasonable hours.  He was a sharp, nice-looking and distinguished man who looked like someone I know.  Who does he look like to you???

Dr. Vincent L. Rowe

Anyway, he was pleased with Steve's progress.  I got to ask him if he thinks Steve will likely suffer any edema in his left arm in the future and he honestly didn't know.  He said some people have swelling and some people don't.  Basically we'll just have to wait and see.  The most important thing the doctor said that resonated with us was that Steve was VERY lucky.  We thought we already knew that but the doctor said that statistics have shown that patients who have suffered a penetrating injury of the subclavian vein (translation: gunshot wound to the vein under the clavicle) have a higher mortality rate than a penetrating injury to the artery.  When I got home and googled it, I found one study that showed a greater than 50% mortality rate for Steve's type of injury versus a 39% mortality rate for injury to the subclavian artery.  Needless to say, we walked out of there feeling very humbled and even more grateful than ever.

We got home safely this time, no fender benders thank God.  We were both exhausted and after I fixed dinner, cleaned the kitchen, helped with homework, facilitated baths, cleaned Steve's pins, folded the laundry, put the laundry away, admistered medications to everyone, and got everyone to bed, I had a chance to reflect on the day.  Truly, it was a great day. And grateful doesn't even begin to describe how I feel.  My one big regret is that amidst the chaos of "just trying to get things done," I was harsh to the kids.  My fuse was short, almost nonexistent, and at times I was downright mean to them.  Once they were in bed and the house was quiet, I felt horrible.  Along with Steve, the ones that matter the most are the kids and I let the stress of all the other stuff keep me from treasuring them the way I should.  That sucks.  You'd think I would have learned not to do that by now.  I'm tired and I'm going to bed.  I pray I can make it up to them tomorrow.