Bad Things Happen in ....Fives????

I have not been able to keep up with this blog because we have had a little excitement lately.

First, my mother broke her arm when she went to answer the phone late in the evening the night of our return from Spain. The airline had lost two pieces of luggage and had called around midnight to arrange to deliver them to their house. My mother was still half asleep and in a jetlagged state when she got out of bed to answer the phone quickly knowing that it was the airline calling. She does not know what she tripped over, but she ended up with a fractured wrist and some painful bruising on her face. Her cast is finally going to be removed next week.

A few weeks ago my cousin Alberto called to say that Tio Alberto had tripped at La Torre and fractured his femur close to the hip. They had to rush him from northern Spain to the hospital he works at in Madrid for surgery. Had he not had the position he has at the hospital, he would've had to wait at least three months for surgery (I'm not a heartless person; I'm absolutely against socialized medicine for that very reason among many others). He ended up having a pin put into his leg and was in severe pain probably because he has Paget's Disease, a secret he had withheld from the family for several years and for which he is now receiving treatment. Paget's is not curable, but treatment can prevent progression. It is hereditary as my grandmother had it, and a few years ago my brother and I observed that he walked with a limp like Abuela used to.

A couple weeks ago my mother-in-law came to visit and the day she arrived we took the boys to a park nearby. She started to complain about a sharp pain on her left side and thought it might be her diverticulitis acting up. But as we were driving home the pain was so severe that Mike took her to the ER that evening. She was misdiagnosed with diverticulitis and urinary tract infection, but as the weekend wore on (we celebrated Christian's birthday that weekend) she still did not feel better and by Sunday she was in agony, so back to the ER she went with John. The next morning John called to tell us she was going to be rushed to another hospital because they had found a 6-cm. (2.4 in.) mass on her left kidney, which turned out to be a benign kidney tumor (angiomyolipoma) that had to be embolized in order to starve and subsequently shrink it. Brenda needed to stay in the hospital for a few nights and recuperated for another week here in Albuquerque. She returned yesterday to Tennessee. We are so grateful that she is doing better, and they will see a urologist in the next month to see if the tumor has shrunk.

While she was here recuperating, last Friday morning I awoke at 5:30 to sharp pains in my abdomen and ended up in the ER myself because of a kidney stone that passed. Out of desperation I called my next door neighbor at 6:45 begging her to take me to the hospital because I knew I could not drive myself. Let me tell you, having a kidney stone is the worst pain I have experienced. I would rather repeat the petocin-induced labor, back labor pain and the too-late epidural that I had with Gaby than go through another kidney stone again. I was alone vomitting in the waiting room and a "helpful" person stuck her head out to tell me, "There's a bathroom down the hall," and then handed me a tub. I remember being in such miserable pain moaning, "Someone please help me." I had visions of being left alone to die in the ER waiting room as what happened to the poor lady in New York last summer as I myself was writhing in pain on the floor, vomitting into my pretty pink bucket as a hospital worker passed me by with nary a sympathetic glance in my direction. Finally, I was able to walk/crawl to the bathroom and finish my business. And suddenly I was able to walk upright back into the waiting room. I felt so foolish thinking I had had gas or some stomach bug, but I was told told my symptoms were those of passing a kidney stone. Here I was in the hospital while my mother-in-law, who went through something much worse, was waiting at home with the boys. She was a real trooper.

And the final bit of news is that my sister-in-law's parents were hit head-on by a drunk driver in Pittsburgh last night. It's miraculous that they survived as many victims rarely make it through such a crash. It happened right in front of the cemetery where their son was buried some 13 years ago. Jeanne's parents are doing well, although her mother received the brunt of the force on the passenger side and will be recovering for the next couple of weeks in the hospital. They both had to endure surgery for broken limbs and gashes. Jeanne and two of her sisters live in Dallas, and last night was a particularly ominous evening with dark clouds covering most of the city. Jeanne noticed something as she was driving home. "Look, Daniela. There's a pink shine coming from those clouds. That means Uncle Daniel is in heaven watching over us." It happened at the time when her parents were involved in the crash in Pittsburgh.

Even though this has been such a weird summer with all these happenings, I feel so lucky because things could have turned out so much worse for each of us. We have our lives, our families, friends, and love. Above all, God is good.

There is a reason for everything and someday it will be clear.