God moves through humor

I have a great story from last night. I’ll try to keep this short. 

I arrived at the hospital around 7:30 p.m. Mom, Dad, Ryan and Elizabeth were standing at the end of Grandma’s bed. She hadn’t responded or opened her eyes all day. Sure, if the nurses pinched her, she’d slowly pull away but those were reactionary movements. They tried some commands (thumbs up, open your eyes), but nothing. 

For the first time, she didn’t look like Grandma. It brought a darkness to my heart. I made the rounds hugging each of my family members, which sparked fresh tears in each of us girls. My dad was last. As he hugged me with his tight embrace he asked in the most loving way, “Tough day, huh?” I choked back, “I just want it to be over;” whatever that meant. It felt good to be safe in my dad’s arms. 

I pulled it together and we chatted as Grandma lay there, so little and fragile, with deep chest breaths that looked too big for her body. We went down to the patient sitting area for a bit while the nurses changed her bedclothes. We managed to figure out a coffee machine in a vending area that didn’t even supply cups. (Who has a coffee machine without cups? Now that’s just mean.) We sat at an uncomfortable, McDonald’s-style table until it was time to get back to Grandma. 

They’d positioned her differently; this time she was much less hunched over. I was thankful for that. The nurse was still in the room so we took the opportunity to ask some more questions. 

We learned Grandma had another CT yesterday (that’s number three), which showed all is well, relatively speaking. She still has the tube that’s supposed to drain blood from her brain into a bag at her bedside. They started “clamping,” which from what I understood, is helping her brain adjust to the pressure we feel daily. The nurse said this is going well. They’ll continue changing the clamp little-by-little. They began tube feeding and she is on liquid Tylenol to help the headache she undoubtably has after such a major head injury. 

Honestly, that’s all I remember and I can’t guarantee I have every detail correct. That’s why I do what I do for a career. I write health education materials for those in situations exactly like ours. I wish we had gotten something to hold [read] as the nurse was spitting out the information. Bless his heart, he did a great job. It was just a lot of information and understanding it in our emotional state wasn’t easy. 

Back to the story. I moved toward Grandma and stood at her head. My family naturally migrated with me, circling the bed. I realized it was 9:30 p.m. and we hadn’t done this yet. We’d been at the foot of the bed or side of the room since arriving. In my mind, Grandma was an object. I wanted to humanize the experience, even if she couldn’t respond. 

But I so badly wanted a response. 

I started talking to Grandma, half talking to my family as I spoke with her. They chimed in. We exchanged glances and continued our “conversation” with her. Then I said, choking back tears, “Grandma, you’ve taken care of us for so many years; now it’s time we take care of you.” I paused and continued, “But Grandma, I think you’re milkin’ it.” 

She raised her right hand, which was folded across her lap and pointed at me. 

We literally cheered in the ICU. “GRANDMA!” I yelled in tears. I looked at my mom and she broke in the most beautiful way. 

That’s what we needed. For the first time, Grandma was there. It wasn’t reactionary. It was a response and showed she perceived something. Her sense of humor shined through that simple point. She couldn’t smile. She couldn’t open her eyes. But she could point. PRAISE GOD!!! 

The nurse came in, smiled and said “That happens. They’ll do things for family because the strength it takes is worth it.” 

We couldn’t stop smiling. I still can’t and I write this in tears as JOY overflows in my heart. (Can you feel it?) 

That simple point of a finger was a God moment. It was a divine gift saying, “I’m here. Grandma is here. And there’s hope.” 

Friends, God moves! Ask for it. Look for it. Even in horrible circumstances, He’s there.