It's not really the lesson from Proverbs, but they were ants and we learned a lot. Saturday night we were at the park for a concert and Mike got bit by some fire ants. It hurt, but it didn't seem to be a big deal - maybe 6-10 bites. I took Olivia over the swings and he went back with Joseph to chat with our friends. About 20-30 minutes passed from the time he was bit to when he came over to the swings. He said he thought he was having a reaction to the ants and we should go home and get some Benadryl. While he had been sitting with our friends his feet had started to tingle, then his hands and then he started to get really light headed. When I looked at him his whole body was red, his eyes were glassed over and blood shot. I ran to get the car and by the time I got back he could barely walk to the car. I carried both kids and Miked stumbled across the intersection to our car. I was so afraid he would fall in the street. Olivia buckled herself in and by the time I latched Joseph Mike had gotten himself in the car, but was almost unconscious. I ran back across the street to get directions to the hospital and when I got back his fingers, wrists and arms were all retracting like he was seizing and he was making a rhythmic moan - he was completely unconscious. I started driving and calling 911. Three things factored in at this point. #1 I have a HORRIBLE sense of direction. #2 It is illegal in CA to talk on your cell phone and drive. #3 The roads are weird here - lots of two way stops. I am constantly stopping when I shouldn't be and driving through stops signs when I shouldn't. I never made one wrong turn. No one arrested me (though I think they would have understood). And the only stops signs I blew through I did on purpose honking as I went. The hard part was keeping Mike from falling when I took corners...I can giggle about that now. It wasn't funny then.
Funny about 911 - I got an automated answer initially. Then, "Please wait for the next available operator." Then, "All available operators are busy at the moment." WHAT?! It was probably only about 30 seconds worth of all that, but really! The operator was great. She told me to pull over, which killed me. I thougth if I could keep moving I was doing something. To stop and wait was horrible. We had made it about 1/2 way to the hospital, but I learned later the the directions I had been given were wrong and if I had kept going I would have gotten lost. Mike's breathing was getting slower and his eyes were rolling back in his head. But I was convinced he could hear me because every time his arms started to come into his chest I would tell him to relax and they would go back down, but he says he doesn't remember anything. The operator kept giving me intersections that the EMT were coming through and I thought I would never hear those sirens. I will never wince my ears again at those sirens.
The EMT were incredible - though I do wish they had a little more pep in their step getting out of that fire engine. They were so kind and professional. They were great with the kids...who by the way never wigged out. Olivia, kid of a million questions, was calm and quiet the whole time. Within a couple of minutes of the epinephrene Mike's hands released. He never regained full consciousness until he was in the ambulance, but he did very purposely blink his eyes one good time as they were getting him out of the van. His eyes had been open the whole time but he never blinked - that was horrible.
We followed the fire truck to the hospital and got released about 2 a.m. He has some occassional itching at the bites, but is really fine. His reaction was so weird. Most people who go into anaphylactic shock have respiratory distress. I know Mike's breathing would have eventually stopped, it was slowing. But he was never in distress. He even swallowed a couple of times while he was unconscious - stuff like that and his constant pulse kept me encouraged.
So the lessons...if you are even still reading this. This was definitely the worst experience of my life. So scarey. Courtney O. if you are reading this - I know a LITTLE of what you felt with Bruce. Two things have stood out to me as I have replayed this over and over in my head. We went to church the following morning (because really what better place to be than in the house of the Lord who orders our days) and during the time of confession I started thinking about my reaction in the car in front of the children. I wondered what they saw and heard. I began to feel condemned in my heart (not by God, but I really think by our enemy who works to discourage) that I did not show a good enough example of our trust in God. I knew I had said "oh shit" a bunch of times, but I also knew I prayed a lot too. But I couldn't remember anything else and it was killing me. (I know you are probably saying to yourself - give yourself a break, it was a crisis. I know. I'm not trying to expect perfection...that isn't what this is about.) What I realized during that time of confession is that God knows it all. AND he forgives IT ALL. I am not Catholic. I do not fear that if I die failing to have remembered and confessed a particular sin I will go to hell. I have put my trust in Christ and ALL of my sins past, present and future are forgiven. I continue to confess because it is good for me - to call sin what it is and to receive afresh each time the reminders and blessings of his eternal forgiveness. But I don't have to live in fear of forgetting something. I don't have to live in fear at all. There is a reason why David asks God to "search me and know me...know my anxious thoughts...see if there is any offensive way in me..." We just can't do it on our own. We even need God's help with confession. I am not trying to make any sort of commentary on whether or not I sinned in our whole little crisis. Honestly, I don't think God cares too much about the shits or anything else I said. Like in most every other circumstance in our lives he was just wanted to show himself to us and remind us who he is and what he is like - and oddly enough from a little anaphylactic shock I was reminded that he is the God who forgives.
I learned something else if you want to know it. When I was on the phone with that operator (whose voice I don't think I will ever forget), she said a phrase that brought me great comfort. After she convinced me to pull over, she asked me a couple of questions about Mike's condition and then I pleaded with her to have them hurry. I wanted to know if they were already coming and how long it would take. And she said very confidently that they were on there way since the moment we got on the phone and "they were coming lights and sirens." I am a sensory gal and that helped me so much. I was going to see them and hear them...and it was going to be loud and bright. Sunday morning we were reading to the kids from the Jesus Storybook Bible and it was the story of Mary going to the tomb after Jesus had been buried and finding it empty. Remember, the angel had told the women that Jesus had risen and they all went running to tell the others. But Mary, who often lingered whenever Jesus was around, stayed - probably trying to make sense of it and push past the unbelief. She heard something in the garden and thinking it was the gardner the storybook says,
"I don't know where Jesus is!" Mary said urgently. "I can't find him."
But it was all right. Jesus knew where she was. And he had found her.
I couldn't do anything for Mike and it was killing me. And what was worse is that I had no control over the help that was coming. But they knew where we were. They were coming and they would find us. Lights and sirens.
God came lights and sirens too, as Jesus. It was a humble beginning and a lonely death, but you can't say that the resurrection wasn't bright and I am relatively confident that the second coming will be loud...with the rejoicing and whatnot. But I find as much comfort in knowing that God knows where I am right now and he finds me day after day as I wander away in sin or pride or distraction or boredom or disbelief. And he calls my name like he did Mary's. And I recognize it because I recognize his voice and I return, not in fear or shame, but with confidence that he loves me...enough to come after me. Lights and sirens.
I took this because of what he said while he was having snack. He kept asking me for more doughtnut. Doughnut? I wasn't giving him doughnuts. I finally asked if he meant chocolate milk and he smiled real big and said "Yeeaah!" Apparently we don't give him enough doughnuts or chocolate milk - he can't tell the difference. But they are in the same category of yum I think.
Never mind the bunny ears and "pack pack" on the high chair. That is where Olivia is currently parking her "on the go bag".
