Back to Houston

Back to the hotel. We pulled into the parking lot and I was surprised by the excitement I suddenly felt. Entering the lobby was like coming home. The same friendly people greeted us that said goodbye to us when we left. The coffee bar was waiting expectantly for me to pour a hot steaming cup, badly needed after an all day drive, just as it had been waiting for me to pour a cup to aid me on my way when we had exited the building five weeks ago. (How's that for a run on sentence)? A New, yet completely familiar to us room. Things put away in all the familiar places. We have decided we love Houston. It has become our home away from home.  We parked the suitcase in the closet and went out to our favorite Houston restaurant for a Valentine's Day date and some after dinner hoodie shopping, since it was quite a bit colder than we had anticipated. Then we went back "home" and prepared for the next morning's Tuesday clinic, the first since we had been released to go back to our home five weeks ago. They had told us we would need to return from time to time for face to face meetings with the doctors and we were ready. The Mr. had been doing very well. No setbacks and no hospital visits except for that choking incident.  Next morning we were on our way. Lab work done and we made our way upstairs to clinic. We rounded the 4th floor transplant unit and were welcomed by the receptionist who still knew us, of course. Friendly smiles. Sat down amongst about ten people and immediately got into conversation with the two ladies sitting across from us. They were there together, the two of them. We were talking about the Mr.'s transplant. He was talking a mile a minute, telling them all about it, He hadn't been this animated in years. I knew he was feeling really good. Back to his normal self, in fact. I had forgotten what his normal self was like, he had been so sick for so long. One of the ladies spoke up. My husband is in transplant right now, even as we speak she said. And her husband she said, pointing at her friend, is the donor.  Is Dr. Cotton doing the surgery? I asked. Yes, She said. We told her then, that she was in great hands. Dr. Cotton is the best, the greatest. Rest assured. I said. A minute later I was astonished to actually see Dr. C through the clinic door, in the room we would be seen in. He really gets around I was thinking. I don't know how he does it. Busiest man I have ever met. A minute later we were called in and talking to Dr. Cotton himself, and Princess, the Mr.'s nurse. He talked to us for a minute, filling in some blanks about that antibody treatment the Mr. had had to take four weeks ago. To our surprise and amazement we found out that they had had to call a state senator to get the treatment for him. How is THAT for going above and beyond for your patient?! So we talked a few minutes, and then he had to run, probably literally, because they were waiting on him to start that transplant. Away he went and then Princess began looking at the labs that were just coming in. All was great, except...the magnesium was low again. We knew where this was going. Back down to the ER for a quick IV infusion of Mag, just as we had done so many times before and then we would be free to go back home until our next appt., two months from now. I sat out in the waiting room while they took him in the back. I got out my phone and started to play Words with Friends. But I couldn't concentrate. I kept thinking about those ladies in transplant. I knew how they were feeling. I knew exactly how they were feeling. The loneliness. The fear. The unknown. The hope that after today things would begin to return to normal. Go pray with them. Uh...what? Comfort them with the comfort you have received. Go pray with them. In front of all those people up there, Lord? Go. So I went. I got up from the waiting room in the ER and I gathered my things, and without a word to anyone I began the walk back up to the 4th floor. There were butterflies fighting for space in my stomach. Heart pounding. Still I went. Rounded the corner to transplant. Said hi to the receptionist. Looked around the corner. They were gone. I am not going to lie, I felt a little relieved. Maybe it wasn't the Lord after all. Were you looking for someone? The receptionist interjected my thoughts. The transplant ladies that were sitting in here. I said. Oh, they moved around the corner to the family waiting room by the elevators. With that, she gave me precise directions on how to find them. I set out in that direction and then, just when I was about to call it off because I couldn't find the room, I saw an open door and their faces. They were surprised to see me and had been joined by a third lady. I was trying not to sound crazy as I told them I had come back to pray for them. I began to tell them of the miracles we had received when we had been in the transplant process, and then I saw them look at each other. One of them said to me We were just talking about that, I can't believe the timing of you coming in here! With that, I began to relax somewhat. It became very clear that the Lord had sent me for this purpose. I told them about what the Bible says about comforting those who are in distress or affliction with the same comfort you received from Christ, when you were in distress or affliction. And then we prayed. What a prayer. I was in such a unique position to offer prayer because I knew precisely what they were going through. I knew God had sent me for comfort. Afterward they wanted a picture with me, and I felt that I had gained some new friends. I left there with a light heart and went back down to the ER and finished my Words with Friends game while I waited for the Mr. He came out and we went on back to our home away from home.  I prayed for those ladies long after we left the hospital, off and on into the next day and I made it a point to continue to pray for them on a regular basis for awhile, at least. 

Getting back home was a trial. We needed to go to my Dad's to get the dog, who was not feeling well. I knew the night we left something was amiss. She didn't eat very much and her eyes were watery as if she had a cold. In all of her twelve years she had never been sick with anything other than stomach ailments, so this was new territory. But I couldn't take her with me and I had to go. She had improved slightly yesterday and we thought we were out of the woods, but today she hadn't eaten, and what little had gone down had come right back up, Dad said. When I went in, she was laying on her bed, face to the wall. I walked all the way across the room and stood over her and called her name twice before she even stirred. Very much NOT like Belle. She is usually at the door before the car pulls up. She has that sixth sense. By the time I get to the door she is usually going nuts with shrieks and jumping up and down. The worst kind of excited yapping. But I love it and I love her. She has had such a rough couple of years. First Sam died. She didn't get along great with Sam, but she had lived with him since she was four months old. When he passed away she grieved for awhile. And then the Mr. got sick. There were long absences when he was in the hospital and she was mostly alone. Someone was always here to take her out, every few hours, but other than that, it was just a year of being alone for her. She began exhibiting signs of anxiety. When she saw us getting our shoes on she would stand in the door, just tense. Waiting in misery for us to leave. Then we took her to Dad and Jo's who graciously offered to care for her while we were in Houston for those three months. We were and are thankful for their hospitality to our dog. It meant the world to us not to have to worry about her care while we were gone.  Three days ago when we got to Dad's, we immediately went to the back yard for her business, and then I sneaked out the front just to go to Dollar General for a minute. I was coming right back but she didn't know that. Dad told me that as soon as she figured out we were leaving she began howling at the top of her little lungs. She was so sad. 

So upon returning from Houston, I stood over her bed where she was asleep and called her name. She immediately jumped out of bed and flipped herself over backwards in excitement, landing on her backside. I made sure she was ok, and then we had to continue our journey. Normally we would stop for the night but the weather was horrific and incoming. so we decided to try to beat it. I decided Belle needed to sit on my lap, rather than sit in the back, where she was sliding all over trying to find purchase for her feet on the slippery leather and continually falling off the seat. This proved to be very trying, as the next three hours were spent trying to keep her actually on my lap, and not standing up, or moving around, while her tiny little claws dug into my thighs through my pants. Through the storms and rain, which we did not succeed in beating, we made our very slow way home and pulled into the driveway. Back to regular life. Belle seemed like she was feeling better. She wanted food, but since she had thrown up it would be chicken broth (no thanks, as she walked away) and a tablespoon of pumpkin. (ok, maybe, she said, and took a couple of tentative bites). And maybe a couple of kernels of dry dog food to see if she could hold it down. The Mr. went to the store for  groceries and I cleaned up and put our suitcases away and settled back into home. I got out my Bible and began to read that chapter about comforting the afflicted. The more I read, the more it hit home. I was in awe. It fit the situation between me and the transplant ladies exactly. And I remembered that I had been prayed for in the same way, when the Mr. was first sick. Someone had comforted ME in the same way a year ago. It was the week he was diagnosed. He was in the hospital for a week. During that time I did some googling. One of the things I read said that the average person only lives two years after their first paracentesis. (A paracentesis is draining fluid from the abdomen). The Mr. had just had his first one that day. I was in shock. I walked out to my car and just stood there. Lost. I'm sure I was crying. A lady approached. She asked if she could pray for me. I told her yes, of course. I told her why I was crying. As she finished praying she said to me I believe your husband is going to live forty or fifty more years. I took that comfort with me. I thought about if from time to time. Then after his transplant, on the day they sent the Mr. home from the hospital, we had a talk with Dr. Cotton. You know, livers have no lifespan, he said. You could live forty or fifty more years. I think my mouth dropped open. It was that amazing. Just one more amazing thing in a long, long string of amazing things, both large and small, that we had witnessed since this whole thing started, and actually way before that, if you were to go all the way back to where it all started, I would go all the way back to Salinas, ten years ago. God has been very present with us since that time. Not that he wasn't with us before, but this is on a whole new level. And if I can use those experiences for the comfort of some else's troubles, then I certainly will. After all He had done for us, I am only too glad to share. 

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of sympathy, and the God who is the source of every comfort (consolation and encouragement). Who comforts us in every trouble, so that we may also be able to comfort those who are in any kind of trouble or distress with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted. by God. (I like the present tense here. I am still being comforted It never stops). For just as Christ's sufferings fall to our lot (as they overflow upon his disciples and we share and experience them) abundantly, so through Christ comfort is also shared and experienced abundantly by us. But if we are troubled, it is for your comfort and for your salvation; and if we are comforted it is for your comfort which works in you when you patiently endure the same misfortunes and calamities that we also suffer and undergo. 2 Corinthians chapter 1.