I’ve read all the signs on the walls. Last night I disregarded the one that says I may not take any photos or recordings in this unit. And so I have this one. You can’t see, but Elv is in the bed above, hooked up to IVs and a heart monitor. It’s five times now, since he had COVID-19 in January. I told him last night on the way home that I’m going to stop counting now.
It’s always the same. His heart rate goes wild and wonky during an Afib session and we wait at home to see if it’s going to chill or stay in racing mode. Sometimes, every now and then, we get to stay home and rest. But most often it’s up with my hair, on with street clothes and shoes, shut all the stove dampers, and drive a be-sharp-about-it nine miles to the ER. Elv hates it worse than I do for obvious reasons.
I’m not yet in the mood to figure out how this has spiritual growth opportunities and all that jazz. Life hasn’t made sense for so long already.
Only this one thing: I have been reading and hearing that we are to be thankful in every situation. I tell Elv this through tears on the way to the ER or at night after we’ve shut the lights out. I don’t know what it means yet, except that the whole of the puzzlement and insanity is up to Him to handle.
If you think of us, please pray. Spring is wonderful. He is risen and there are a million blessings all around. That’s all for now.