It's going to be okay

As I mentioned in my last couple of posts, my husband started complaining of stomach pains Wednesday night of Camp Mom. He was out of bed all night because he just couldn't get comfortable enough to sleep. The next day he called in sick to work in an attempt to get some sleep during the day. He started feeling better after not eating all day but after dinner, the same pain came on again. He attempted to go into work the next morning but came right back home. Again, he felt well enough in the evening to eat at the camp fire but then immediately started feeling sick again. Finally on Saturday evening, around 5:30, he headed into Spokane to the VA Hospital.

I tried calling him several times with no luck so after I got the kids to bed, at around 9pm, I called the VA Hospital and told them I had misplaced my husband and hoped he was there. They assured he was there and undergoing some tests. They ruled out kidney stones and moved to the next logical conclusion: appendicitis. At around 1:30am, they transferred him to Sacred Heart Medical Center for more testing and possible surgery. I had seen Stacey's sister, Steffany, pop up on facebook so I let her know what was going on and she told the rest of the family and now we had a whole gang of people worrying about him. This is where I'm not sure if I'm a bad wife. See, I was never worried. I asked our Lord for patience in waiting for a diagnosis and, of course, for the recovery of my husband. But I never once thought that something terrible could happen or that I had even a tiny reason to worry. I just took care of things around the house the best I could and arranged sitters for the kids so I could be with Stacey. I figured that it was either going to get better on it's own and remain a mystery or we would find out what it was and get it fixed. What became very obvious to me, was how blessed we are to have so many family and friends in the area who are available and willing to take our kids so I could hang out with Stacey in the hospital.

I was certainly frustrated at times with the lack of information we were getting from the tests and I really hated knowing that my husband was in pain. For the most part they had him on pain killers and he was pretty comfortable. On his first day there, he was feeling okay so he went off the meds and had lunch. Since nothing was really going on, Stacey said I should head home and take care of things around there and then come back. While I was away he went into a fit of pain. His sisters had stopped in to see him and he was in agony, waiting to be put on pain killers again. I, of course, was not there at this time. When his sisters called and told me what was going on, I did get pretty upset. I just don't like being helpless in the care of my family. I would rather be the one in pain because I feel in control. I like the fact that I birth the babies and Stacey provides loving support because I know what to do to help myself through the labor. I've never asked Stacey how he feels when I go into transition and have to work through those really intense contractions. Does he feel helpless? Does he ask God for help and guidance? Because that's how it was for me on my drive back to the hospital. Even during that time, I knew it was going to be okay. God would carry us lovingly through this and we would come out the other side.

So what the heck was wrong with him? This remains a mystery. His kidneys were fine, his gall bladder was fine, his appendix was fine. On Monday night they got his system all cleaned out and by Tuesday mid-morning, he was feeling a lot better. He was taken off pain medication and he tried eating a nice healthy lunch and nothing bad happened. He came home with me that evening and that was that. If this ever happens again, they would definitely do tests to figure out more, but at this point he doesn't have history of stomach issues and it might have been a one time thing. Crazy.