Behold the Lion!

I am moving deeper into the subterranean world of the medical healthcare system. Yesterday two young nurses blew in with the wind. Now it is out in the open, I can no longer take care of my husband. The authorities have been called in. It is official, the recording of his vital signs started today. 

Somehow recording it makes it more official that he IS  terminally ill. He has a sickness unto death. After evaluating him they determined that he has a fever, swollen feet, stage one bedsores, low blood pressure and most likely dehydration. They want to order a bed commode and a physical therapist and send out a LVN every two weeks.  They ask,  "Do we want a hospital bed? A wheelchair?" Then I sign the forms and they leave. 

Later, health care worker, Homer, comes to bathe Hans, but his fever is higher and his blood pressure is lower, so the shower is called off.  Then the physical therapist comes. Questions fly like snow flakes in a blizzard. Now that he has been removed from his blood thinners who is monitoring his DVT? I don't know. What had been decided about the fever? I don't know. Why are we still giving him BP meds when his blood pressure ia dangerously low? I don't know. Is anything being done to alleviate his dehydration? I don't know. Suddenly I began to feel really really bad. We had just seen the doctor a few days ago thinking we were on track with treatments and all our corners were covered. Now..the covers are unraveling. 

Though I appreciated the gentleman's expertise and skill, I wanted him to leave. I wanted to be left alone. I couldn't answer and therefore wasn't in control. Furthermore my soul doubted whether anyone in the world would take these matters seriously.  My immediate feeling was one of powerlessness and  being trapped. Trapped by the protocols of  the medical profession, by their "rules" and by their hardness of heart. I felt dizzy and thought I would faint. Would H. die sooner rather than later because no one would give him an IV and some antibiotics? My panic escalated throughout the day. Around five Emmie had a melt down and was inconsolable. She cried or rather, wailed endlessly. She had awoken from a nap while her mother was at the store. She mourned for the return of her mother, desperate and panicky to have her within reach again. I saw in her actions a symbolic presentation of how everyone was feeling. I told Julianne, "I believe we have lost control over our home."

My panic arose because somehow I childishly believed that if Hans was hydrated that the problems would somehow go away. Like Hans who thinks if he avoids sugar and animal fat that he will be healed. The brain is trying to stave off death. Without divine intervention the inevitable will happen. Without the governor's stay of execution, the criminal will die. This is how it feels. The hour is late, and Hans' strong 74 year old body is being beaten down, taken over. Will the Savior, redeemer kinsman come to our relief, will the stay be granted? I don't want remission, I want healing. I need a King.  I need a great high priest who can approach the throne of God with boldness and power, whose colors I can wear against Goliath. 

 I hear a voice, saying "Who is worthy to open the scroll and break the seals? And no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth was able to open the book or to look into it.  And then I began to weep greatly because no one was found worthy to open the book or to look into it. And one of the elders said to me, "Stop weeping; behold the Lion that is from the tribe of Judah, the Root of David has overcome....talitha kuom!"