None of us say it. But we live our lives daily believing it. We go through the motions of going to a job, paying bills, surfing the internet, giving half-hearted hugs and mumbling the words “I love you, too”. We forget to savor every bite of our favorite meal, embrace the rays of sun beaming on our pale skin, and enjoy the sight of a smile. We go on believing the lie that we are invincible and that every moment spent with our loved ones will never be our last.
And with a phone call, we’re brought back to reality.
I was at work on Tuesday, February 19th when I received a phone call from my mom. She was in Alabama for work, so it was out of the ordinary that she would call me on my cell phone during work hours. I answered. Through the sniffles and obvious evidence of crying, I was able to make out the words that my Aunt Sandi was far worse than we imagined. She had been sick for weeks, having symptoms all over her body of something serious that just went unnoticed. When she first arrived at the hospital (after coughing up blood) on Saturday, the doctors were led to believe she had pneumonia. Well, after complications with her lungs and kidneys, the doctors were forced to move my Aunt Sandi to ICU and perform further tests.
When I arrived to the hospital, I got to go back to Sandi’s room with my cousins David and Alex. She was happy to see us. We talked about the family, The Bachelor, and what restaurant we were taking her to when she got out of that place (the Olive Garden).
Within 24 hours, things went from bad to worse.
On Wednesday morning (around 9 am), my mother and Aunt Sheila were in Sandi’s room with her. The kidney specialist was amazed at how Sandi was breathing, and thought she may be coming into the clear. She decided to have the lung specialist come down early to take a look (he was scheduled to see her in the afternoon). Upon arriving and looking at the X-rays of her lungs, he had to take immediate action as her lungs were filling up with blood. It was this time that my mom called me hysterical, telling me to leave work and get to the hospital immediately. My Aunt Sandi was being placed on life support because her lungs weren’t able to function with the amount of blood.
I remember the last time I saw Aunt Sandi before she went into the hospital. It was at my Aunt Sheri’s Valentine’s Day party on February 9th. As custom, I gave her a casual hug and talked to her every now and again throughout the night. When she left, she asked me to pray for her because she still wasn’t feeling any better and she couldn’t hear all that well. I told her I would and that I loved her. As the next couple of weeks passed, I prayed, but I wonder if I could have prayed more or harder. I wonder why I didn’t call her to check on her or just to say I loved her. I got so tied up in the busyness of nothingness that my priorities were distorted.
The news was delivered that my Aunt Sandi had Wegener’s granulomatosis, a rare disease that can be very serious. For the next few days, my family flocked to the ICU waiting room at the hospital. We held hands and prayed, talked about past memories and current situations, and actually spent time together. Former grudges crumbled and hugs (and tears) were shared.
Then, a funny thing happened in the early morning hours on Friday. Using her hands, eyes, and the nod/shake of her head, she began communicating. I can only imagine how difficult and frustrating it must have been for her to be lying on a bed with a tube down her throat unable to talk. Unable to say “wipe my mouth”, “can I see a picture of Titus”, or “I love you”.
On Friday, I got to go back to her room. In order to see my Aunt Sandi, I had to sanitize my hands, put on gloves, throw on a coat-thing, and place a mask over my face. I would have never imagined having to do that to see her. I sat down next to her and took her hand, which she gently squeezed. I told her I wanted to read her something and began reading her Psalm 118 out of the Bible…
Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; his love endures forever. (118:1)
While I was reading, I began thinking how precious the moment was and how thankful I was to be holding her hand. In certain verses, she would squeeze a little tighter or smile. The sound of scripture brought such joy to her ears; you could see her whole face light up.
Today, Tuesday, February 26th, a week after being moved to ICU, I received the best text I’ve ever read. My mom said “The tubes are out!!!!!” Now, Sandi is still lying in an ICU bed but is breathing almost fully on her own. She is able to talk and give praise to the LORD for his miraculous healing power.
A week ago I spoke to my aunt. A few days ago, she was fighting for her life.
Thank you so much for all the prayers that were presented before the throne on behalf of my Aunt Sandi. I know there were friends and family all over world lifting her up throughout the past week.
And today, right now (or after you finish reading this) call up someone that needs to hear your voice. Call up someone to tell them you love them. Smile. Laugh at a stupid joke. Hug a little tighter. Forgive all the more. Pray for someone. Sing a praise & worship song and mean the words. Go after your dream. Love.
