Overwhelmed

This week has been a whirlwind of working and trying to sleep. Wednesday evening I learned my Dad was having a heart cath on Friday. On Friday we learned that Dad would need a quadruple bypass. They originally thought he had 3 blockages, and were going to try to put stents in. The blockages were too big for stents. And there were 4. I have never known a heart to spontaneously and suddenly grow another vessel, essentially developing it's own bypass. But then again, this is my Dad I am talking about. He is the one who had a grenade blow up in front of him, and all he had was a small shrapnel wound because he tripped on his shoelaces. He is the one who has escaped death a million times because of some small thing, some simple thing, or some divine thing. In a part of a city where he did not realize he was unwelcome, he parted a sea of thugs to get to the parking lot to discover it had closed an hour before, but if he had the parking stub he could get into the garage and get his car out. He has never left his parking stubs anywhere else but the visor of the car. He reached into his pocket for his phone to discover his parking stub there. He was shocked.

I know that my heavenly Father has a hedge of protection around my earthly father. My earthly father is entirely too self-sufficient and prideful to accept that, or to even think of it with any gravity.

I am confident that my Dad will survive his quadruple bypass next week. There is just enough doubt, just enough fear, however, to raise panic and anxiety. In the meantime the waiting is torture for us all. My Mom is a wreck, remembering outcomes of bypass surgeries when she was a nurse 30 years ago. She fears losing the only man she has ever loved. It will be 42 years of marriage in 2 months. Can you imagine staring down the barrel of the gun that could kill your spouse? Your Dad?

I went to see Dad after work yesterday. I got to the hospital just after he had been transfered from the 7th floor to the 5th. No one knew where he was, because it apparently takes at least 30 minutes to click in the computer that a patient has been moved. And did you know there are 3 of Room 523? North, East, and West. I had JUST talked to Dad on the phone, he told me he was in 523. I was told he was on 7th floor. After searching and searching and finding the unit clerk that was around the corner from my Dad's room (I did not know this til later) less than helpful, I walked out, back toward the main entrance, found the hallway empty, and collapsed in a corner and cried for 10 minutes straight. The hospital had lost my Dad. Eventually I pulled myself together enough to go searching again, ignoring any other staff member who offered their assistance (the previous 4 people were useless). I stormed by the unit clerk who had blithely told me that if Dad wasn't on 7th floor and he wasn't in 523, he could not help me. I kept going past the signs that said "Restricted" and walked down hallways where the room numbers made no sense. Finally I heard my Dad's voice. "Shannon" he called out. I have never been so glad to hear him call my name.

My distress at this point is that there is not enough time to do everything that has to be done. I have to find a place for my parents to live for 3-4 months while Dad recovers. I have to find people to help pack up the house, load everything into a UHaul and unload it all into storage. Which means I also need to find a storage facility for the stuff to be in for the next 3-4 months. I am at a point where I NEED to be working 55-60 hours a week to be able to pay for car repairs and other bills that have snuck up on me. Somewhere in the midst of this my laundry needs to be done, and I will be staying with Mom for the forseeable future while I pay rent in Ann Arbor.

Please do not get me wrong, I do not feel any resentment for any of these things. But I am overwhelmed. And am no sure where to turn. I have already turned to my church, and the answer was silence but for a couple people who are particularly invested in me, and in whom I am also particularly invested.

I am disappointed in this body of Christ. Saddened. And perhaps a bit angry. I am uncertain of so many things right now, and my faith has been faltering. And this is when the body choses to show it's backside. Awesome.