MIA ...

I’ve been MIA lately. Cannot say that April 2011 will go down in my life as the worst month of my life, but it would certainly be in contention … and May’s not looking so hot.


I went home for Easter for the first time in forever. Granddad was still in the hospital, but had been stable and we were working back up to rehab after some hurdles. As I was flying home Friday morning, the cardiologist was telling my Mom that he was putting Granddad on the last heart med he had. He wasn’t able to tolerate any of the stronger drugs used to treat his arrhythmia and they had a conversation about advance directives and resuscitation. We were mindful that only GOD numbers our days, but also mindful that Granddad’s days here on earth could be coming to a close.

He was stable all weekend and we had some good talks, but he was struggling to breathe and eat and sit and walk. Easter was unlike I had envisioned. As I drove into the hospital parking lot, the sunrise brought to light a hearse leaving the hospital. It was a poignant image, especially on an Easter Sunday morning. So thankful to live in the hope that death does not have the final victory. I went in to the hosptial to help Granddad with his breakfast, but instead found him in respiratory distress. After about an hour of the respiratory therapist working with him, I texted Mom that she needed to come. He was on a ventimask and showing improvement, but still not well.

I had the joy of spending the next week in Little Rock with my family. Billy flew in and I was able to stay and after a few days of antibiotics, we saw a good improvement. We fought to have him moved to a LTAC and we hoped to see him get enough therapy and strength to go home. The last many weeks have been a rollercoaster … really good days, progress, and complications. The highs give us hope, the lows knock the wind out of us.

Going “home” has so much more meaning, I think, as we get to the end of this life. Today I have spent most of the day begging God to let Granddad leave behind the struggle for his real “home” … two weeks ago I was fighting a doctor for the chance to let Granddad go to his home on Carroll Circle. Probably he has another infection … the doctors think this will be a repeating cycle without a feeding tube. He might rebound this time … but at some point, there will be no more strength to fight. So, we are asking God for peace and comfort for a man who has lived well. We are thankful for the legacy he has left in our lives. We are comforted that there is a home beyond this life. And we know that Memama (and Granddad) has been anxiously awaiting his homecoming.

I wish I knew the number of his days. His Owens genes haven’t been his friend this last month. They served his hard-working family well but his genes are outlasting his life. I commented today to my pastor that I hope I didn’t get those Owens genes because I am too tired to live to 89. He assured me with the amount of diet coke I consume that I’d never live that long and it felt good to laugh.

I have a plane ticket to Zambia … Sunday. I am praying for God to give me wisdom as to the measure of days left for Granddad and the faith to trust His guidance. I don’t think I like rollercoasters anymore.