A Day of Fear and Hope
Estimated reading time: 10 minutes, 30 seconds
Emergency Surgery
“Good evening, is this Mr. Brown speaking?” I said yes. “My name is Sarah, and I am one of the nurses attending to your wife, Mrs. Brown. I regret to inform you that her condition is still critical, but we are doing everything in our power to ensure her comfort and recovery.”
“I am seeking your approval for a stent installation procedure that could help improve her condition.” She explained this was a routine medical procedure involving inserting a tiny mesh tube into the blocked artery to help restore blood flow to the heart.
“I understand this is a difficult time for you, but we need your permission to proceed. Can we count on your approval for this procedure?” I nodded in agreement but then realized she couldn’t see my response over the phone.
“Please do whatever is necessary to help my wife,” I pleaded, hoping that the procedure would help improve her condition.
The clock struck midnight, and I realized I hadn’t slept this entire month. I was on edge, waiting for any news about Jan, and I was willing to agree to every risk factor the nurse mentioned to ensure that she would live.
Once the nurse had obtained all the necessary information, she asked, “Okay, that’s all I need for now. Is this the best number to reach you?” I confirmed that it was.
I started pacing around the apartment, my heart beating fast and my mind racing with worry. I was exhausted, but I knew I couldn’t sleep until I knew Jan was okay. I took a deep breath as my iPhone rang.
“Mr. Brown, the surgery went well, and she’s back in the ICU!” the voice at the other end said.
Relief flooded my body, and I muttered my words of appreciation, “Thank you, thank you!”
With overwhelming gratitude, I texted Dr. Strair, the Rabbi, and my sons to let them know Jan was okay.
The surgery was successful, and she is now in the ICU, where they can drain the fluid and treat the infection with antibiotics. This is a minor but essential step in the right direction!
April 3, 2021, 1:43 am
Dr. Strair responded immediately to my text.
After a night of very little sleep, I texted a morning update.
Morning update: The medical team conducted a CAT scan and found a life-threatening infection in her kidneys that caused fluid buildup. If she hadn’t been admitted to the hospital, it could have been fatal. They performed an emergency surgery to insert a stent in her kidney to drain the fluid. The surgery was successful, and they are treating the infection’s cause with antibiotics. Now, they can concentrate on treating the lymphoma that has returned and is more aggressive than anticipated.
Saturday, April 3, 7:34 AM
Hope Fades, But Jan is Still With Me!
As human beings, we can sometimes fall into the monotonous routine of our daily lives, where most days tend to blur together into a vague memory. However, certain days remain so vivid in our minds that they remain fresh and unforgettable for years. One such day for me was April 2, 2021 – filled with fear and hope, which I will never forget. At that moment, I thought I would never see my wife again.
The following day, I received great news that filled me with joy and relief. Jan had undergone emergency surgery, and I had been worried sick about her. However, I learned that she had not only survived the surgery but was well on her way to a full recovery. That day will always remind me of the fragility of life and the power of hope.
However, the joy and relief of April 3 were short-lived. Four days later, we received the devastating news that nothing more could be done, and Jan was coming home for the last time. In those moments, I felt like my world had come crashing down around me, and I was consumed by grief and sadness.
It was then that I remembered Atul Gawande‘s book “Being Mortal,” which taught me about the importance of hospice care for those who are terminally ill. I knew that hospice care could provide Jan with the support and comfort she needed in her final days, and it would also allow our family to have a final conversation with her.
Although three years have passed since that fateful day, I still recall it with clarity but less emotional intensity. Jan may no longer be with us, but her love and memory remain alive, and I cherish them daily.
If you liked this post, you should read Help Me Help, Jan, written a year ago, or Learning From Grief.
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After almost 48 years, I recently lost my wife, Jan Lilien. Like The Little Prince, Jan and I believed that “The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.” This blog is a collection of my random thoughts on love, grief, life, and all things considered.
