Two days after Christmas at 3:00 in the morning, I noticed Mary getting out of bed and sounding like she was in pain. I followed her and discovered she was having severe stomach pains. I wanted to take her to the hospital, but she was convinced Rolaids and Mylanta would make her feel better. By six in the morning she decided that it was time to go to the hospital.

Soon thereafter, we walked into the ER and were immediately taken to an exam room. Several nurses attended to her along with a doctor. The Doctor took one look at her abdomen and then said, “She needs to have surgery, very soon”. He ordered an MRI while waiting for the ambulance to transport her to Wheeling for emergency surgery. Even before the doctor saw the MRI, he could tell she had a herniated stomach wall and her bowel had pushed through. He made no small talk about the situation she was in and briefly explained what needed to be done.

Shortly thereafter, I kissed her just before the EMTs loaded her on board. The lady driver said, “We’re going to run our lights and siren all the way. You can follow us.” She turned on the lights and made their way to the main highway where she turned on the siren. It rained the entire distance to Wheeling, making the trip even more difficult as I wondered how Mary was doing just fifty feet ahead in the wailing ambulance. Most every week we hear the sound of an emergency vehicle making its way along the highway. Somehow, we seem to ignore the crisis taking place in the ambulance, that is, until it is someone you love.

When she got to Wheeling Hospital’s emergency room, a surgeon came in and told us the same thing as the Wetzel County doctor had an hour before. He also explained that if her intestines were starved of blood, he may have to do a bowel resection and the problems that could come along with the procedure. No sugar coating or lessening the situation she was in. While all this was going on, she was in severe pain, even with medication to lessen it. Later she told me, “natural childbirth never hurt like the pain that night.”

They prepared Mary and I followed her to the doors where she would go into surgery. I kissed her, not good bye, but a, “I love you” kiss along with the words. Now, in 52 years I have never felt that since of pain of watching her disappear through those doors. I have kissed her before routine surgical procedures a few times before, but this time was different. An emptiness filled my insides. You tell yourself she will be fine and she will be better when you see her in a few hours. That’s what you tell yourself, while in the back of your mind you know any surgery is dangerous. Then you make a pact with God to protect her from danger.

The doctor told me it would take two hours for the surgery. In the waiting room there is a television screen with doctor’s names and patient numbers listed. Each number and doctor are highlighted with a color indicating, waiting for surgery, in surgery or in recovery. For two hours, I watched Mary’s number remain in the green indicating she was in surgery. Two hours passed and still green. Two and a half hours passed still green. Finally after three hours and ten minutes it changed colors indicating she was in recovery. A few minutes later the doctor called and told me she was doing fine and he detailed the procedure. Truth is I didn’t hear much after she was fine. The sense of relief was all I felt.

About three hours later, she was moved into a room. I saw my wife of 51 years lying in bed, with hoses coming out her nose, stomach and elsewhere. On both sides of the bed were IVs with tubes running in both arms. With all that she had been through that day, she managed to give me a Mary smile. I tried to kiss her, but with a hose coming out of her nose it was difficult. I now have a whole new appreciation for elephants when they try and kiss.

Our son, Jeremiah drove in from North Carolina and that made my wife feel even better. Truth is it made me feel a whole lot better to have my son here to talk with. At six o’clock, the hospital visiting hours were ended and my son and I came home. It had been a good while since the two of us just sat and talked. But just having him home was a good thing for Mary and me.

Later the next day, Jeremiah had to return home because of his work. I missed his leaving that afternoon due to the fact I had moved my mother from Morgantown back to New Martinsville after a stroke last month. What is it they say, ‘When it rains it pours!” I feel like it’s rained so much in the last month I will see Noah’s Ark floating past the window with two elephants trying to kiss.

Midweek of Mary’s stay in the hospital, I expected to take her home. That changed that morning when a nurse taking her blood pressure and pulse noticed that her pulse and heart rate were different. Needless to say her stay in the hospital was extended and she was moved to the cardiac floor.

After all the tests and heart monitoring were completed, the doctor told us it was under control. He was not sure if the problem was a result of her surgery, or a hidden problem she had for years, or even a left over problem from the Covid she had last year. No real answers, just that they had it under control with medication. Finally, Friday came and I was able to take her home with a tube in her side draining the stapled incision site.

Why have I shared this experience with you all? It just goes to show how life can change in an instant. I learned that I could fill my own pill pack and even take care of a bill or two. I have known Mary is the glue and organization that keeps our family together. I was glad our son was there when we needed him not knowing the possible outcome of her surgery. And I learned that being in this big old house alone, is not something I ever want to experience again.

As we grow older, each of us will experience medical crisis in our family or ourselves. And no matter how much you plan, when it comes at three o’clock in the morning, it will shake your world.

I want to thank the emergency room staff at Wetzel County’s WVU Medical Center for their quick response and knowing she needed to go elsewhere to be helped. The EMT squad that transferred her to Wheeling was very professional, keeping her informed of her situation as they headed north. I am also grateful for the staff at Wheeling hospital’s emergency room, surgery and both the fourth and sixth floor staffs for giving wonderful care to my Mary.

We tend to forget that in the last couple of years that the medical profession has been on the front line of a war with covid. And yet they are still there for emergencies such as Mary’s. Thank you all for caring when we needed you. So the next time you see red lights and hear a siren, know that professionals are doing all they can to save a life as they look Through the Lens.