"A single rose can be my garden;
a single friend, my world."
~ Leo Buscaglia ~
a single friend, my world."
~ Leo Buscaglia ~
Greetings, Blitzers. Welcome to a new day. A day filled with promise. A day of gratitude. A day of life. I am so very thankful: Tim is going to be okay.
Yesterday, Tim and I were going to go over some pics after work. I left my job a little before he did, and got a text just as I got in my car. He wanted to let me know he was leaving soon and would let me know when he got home. But, he added, he didn't feel too well. Maybe it was the heat. I responded that he should definitely start drinking more water, now that summer was here. About 30 minutes later, I received a text that he was in the emergency room.
"I'll be right there," I wrote back.
Driving like the wind -- but always within the speed limit -- I pulled into the parking lot. The Pathfinder was there. Okay, I thought, I'm in the right place. Hurrying in, I was given a paper visitor's bracelet, allowed through the double-doors by security, and immediately pointed in the direction of his bed. There he was. I was so relieved to see that he was conscious and appeared well. Tired, but well.
He told me how, just as he left work, he suddenly felt a burning discomfort in his chest. He felt fatigued, hot, a little nauseated. Maybe it was the heat, but it didn't feel right. So he stopped to get a snack and something to drink. That might help. But it didn't. As he sat there, he looked up the street at the hospital. He probably had indigestion, Tim thought, but then, what if it was something else? In that moment, he made the decision to go the the ER. In that moment, he saved his life.
I stayed with Tim until one o'clock in the morning, talking to him, holding his hand, trying to keep him calm and relaxed. Trying to keep my own fears hidden, honestly. It was a long evening of waiting for results, watching the monitors, talking to doctors, and trying to get him comfortable. After some adjustments to the meds, he felt well enough to look at his laptop. We did a quick post to the blog. (Yes, I know, we need help.) We found out he would be kept at least one night. He'd be transferred to a room as soon as paperwork was done. And, he was finally given something to eat. After a snack and a small amount of pain medication, he began to doze off. I said goodnight, spoke to the nurse, and headed home.
After a few short hours of sleep, I was just heading to the shower when I received a brief text from him, "I'm in ICU." I woke up very, very fast. I sent another quick text to his son, then hurried to get ready. On my way to the hospital, I spoke to his son a couple of times, learning that Tim (as I'm sure you've guessed) had suffered a small heart attack. He wasn't going anywhere.
What can you say about hospital stays and procedures? They are involved. Lengthy. Many details of which I won't, well, detail. But everything oh-so-necessary and thank God for them and the wonderful people who make them happen. Tim, his kids, parents, siblings, and entire family and I are so grateful to them and, though they may never read this, God bless them all. HE knows who they are. Thanks to these people, in the last 24 hours or so, Tim went from being very close to not here (literally passing over and being brought back), to being his usual goofy/cranky/etc./Tim-san self. The difference that has been made in his condition is remarkable. Thank you. Amen. Whew.
At times like these, It's hard to avoid sounding cliché. But I will try.
When a life event like this happens, a moment of clarity occurs. Situations, emotions, people...all take on an intensity of which we may not have previously understood or fully grasped. That of which we are already aware, now burns itself into our consciousness. That which we did not comprehend, becomes apparent. That which we feel, overwhelms. This is the moment when what you knew you valued, now becomes an immeasurable treasure.
I've gotten to know Tim really well over the past eight months. We've spent a lot of time together talking, hiking, texting, watching movies, sharing music, Blitzing... In many ways, he's the kid I wish lived next door when I was a kid. He's also the person who, in a very short time, has changed so much in the vibrancy of my days, helping me find my focus and spurring me to fully engage in life again. Though I am blessed so far beyond measure with so many beautiful, kind, loving, supportive friends (many of whom I've known for much of my adult life), Tim is different. Tim is, as I've written before, the kindred spirit. We inspire one another's dreams and ideas in a way that -- for me -- has not happened with anyone before. It's as if we have a muse that guides us creatively. But it's not only that. We connect...and that connection has changed.
When you stand by the hospital bedside of someone seriously ill -- whether it is a spouse, a child, a friend, a family member -- you understand how much that person and their well-being and happiness means to you. I can't explain the depth of my emotions fully, other than to say that seeing Tim with his children and knowing that they will have many more years to share together fills me with such complete and utter joy, that the computer screen is a watery blur. To know that I could be there for him and his family members even makes me appreciate that the sorrows I have experienced in my life prepared me to be strong now. This is a level of friendship and love that runs deep: this is kinship of the soul. It cannot be imitated nor replaced, and no matter where people's lives and journeys take them, this is a bond that can stretch across the universe and never break. Yeah, it's like that.
It's late. I'm tired. Tim's indisposed. It's been a long couple of days. So, Blitzers, I hope you will understand that the blog may not update for a few days. Taking a break to focus on what matters most. Though this is an amazing project that we really, truly enjoy, compared to Tim and his healthy recovery, it's not important. Though we will be back, if we had to give it up so he'd be okay, then so be it. Loved ones, relationships, life...in the end, what else matters? Nothing.
In the meantime, Blitzers, enjoy your Fourth of July weekend. Be safe. Follow Your Blitz.
To learn more about heart health, visit the American Heart Association.
Yesterday, Tim and I were going to go over some pics after work. I left my job a little before he did, and got a text just as I got in my car. He wanted to let me know he was leaving soon and would let me know when he got home. But, he added, he didn't feel too well. Maybe it was the heat. I responded that he should definitely start drinking more water, now that summer was here. About 30 minutes later, I received a text that he was in the emergency room.
"I'll be right there," I wrote back.
Driving like the wind -- but always within the speed limit -- I pulled into the parking lot. The Pathfinder was there. Okay, I thought, I'm in the right place. Hurrying in, I was given a paper visitor's bracelet, allowed through the double-doors by security, and immediately pointed in the direction of his bed. There he was. I was so relieved to see that he was conscious and appeared well. Tired, but well.
He told me how, just as he left work, he suddenly felt a burning discomfort in his chest. He felt fatigued, hot, a little nauseated. Maybe it was the heat, but it didn't feel right. So he stopped to get a snack and something to drink. That might help. But it didn't. As he sat there, he looked up the street at the hospital. He probably had indigestion, Tim thought, but then, what if it was something else? In that moment, he made the decision to go the the ER. In that moment, he saved his life.
I stayed with Tim until one o'clock in the morning, talking to him, holding his hand, trying to keep him calm and relaxed. Trying to keep my own fears hidden, honestly. It was a long evening of waiting for results, watching the monitors, talking to doctors, and trying to get him comfortable. After some adjustments to the meds, he felt well enough to look at his laptop. We did a quick post to the blog. (Yes, I know, we need help.) We found out he would be kept at least one night. He'd be transferred to a room as soon as paperwork was done. And, he was finally given something to eat. After a snack and a small amount of pain medication, he began to doze off. I said goodnight, spoke to the nurse, and headed home.
After a few short hours of sleep, I was just heading to the shower when I received a brief text from him, "I'm in ICU." I woke up very, very fast. I sent another quick text to his son, then hurried to get ready. On my way to the hospital, I spoke to his son a couple of times, learning that Tim (as I'm sure you've guessed) had suffered a small heart attack. He wasn't going anywhere.
What can you say about hospital stays and procedures? They are involved. Lengthy. Many details of which I won't, well, detail. But everything oh-so-necessary and thank God for them and the wonderful people who make them happen. Tim, his kids, parents, siblings, and entire family and I are so grateful to them and, though they may never read this, God bless them all. HE knows who they are. Thanks to these people, in the last 24 hours or so, Tim went from being very close to not here (literally passing over and being brought back), to being his usual goofy/cranky/etc./Tim-san self. The difference that has been made in his condition is remarkable. Thank you. Amen. Whew.
At times like these, It's hard to avoid sounding cliché. But I will try.
When a life event like this happens, a moment of clarity occurs. Situations, emotions, people...all take on an intensity of which we may not have previously understood or fully grasped. That of which we are already aware, now burns itself into our consciousness. That which we did not comprehend, becomes apparent. That which we feel, overwhelms. This is the moment when what you knew you valued, now becomes an immeasurable treasure.
I've gotten to know Tim really well over the past eight months. We've spent a lot of time together talking, hiking, texting, watching movies, sharing music, Blitzing... In many ways, he's the kid I wish lived next door when I was a kid. He's also the person who, in a very short time, has changed so much in the vibrancy of my days, helping me find my focus and spurring me to fully engage in life again. Though I am blessed so far beyond measure with so many beautiful, kind, loving, supportive friends (many of whom I've known for much of my adult life), Tim is different. Tim is, as I've written before, the kindred spirit. We inspire one another's dreams and ideas in a way that -- for me -- has not happened with anyone before. It's as if we have a muse that guides us creatively. But it's not only that. We connect...and that connection has changed.
When you stand by the hospital bedside of someone seriously ill -- whether it is a spouse, a child, a friend, a family member -- you understand how much that person and their well-being and happiness means to you. I can't explain the depth of my emotions fully, other than to say that seeing Tim with his children and knowing that they will have many more years to share together fills me with such complete and utter joy, that the computer screen is a watery blur. To know that I could be there for him and his family members even makes me appreciate that the sorrows I have experienced in my life prepared me to be strong now. This is a level of friendship and love that runs deep: this is kinship of the soul. It cannot be imitated nor replaced, and no matter where people's lives and journeys take them, this is a bond that can stretch across the universe and never break. Yeah, it's like that.
It's late. I'm tired. Tim's indisposed. It's been a long couple of days. So, Blitzers, I hope you will understand that the blog may not update for a few days. Taking a break to focus on what matters most. Though this is an amazing project that we really, truly enjoy, compared to Tim and his healthy recovery, it's not important. Though we will be back, if we had to give it up so he'd be okay, then so be it. Loved ones, relationships, life...in the end, what else matters? Nothing.
In the meantime, Blitzers, enjoy your Fourth of July weekend. Be safe. Follow Your Blitz.
To learn more about heart health, visit the American Heart Association.
