“That cannot be for me,” I thought, as I lay there on the floor, holding my leg proudly in the air, like some wounded flamingo. “Code Blue-doesn’t that mean I’m having a heart event?”
i had gone to the Satellite Lab for blood work on my knee scooter after a friend had dropped me off at the hospital door. When my lucky number 11 was called quickly, I was happy because it would mean that I could get to my 10:30 appointment at another clinic so that my broken ankle could be casted finally. Everything was working out perfectly.
I scooted up to the lab chair and assessed the situation. I was pretty sure that I could transfer from my scooter to the chair by myself. That was my first mistake. My second mistake was not waiting for someone to be in the same cubicle before I tried to transfer. I’m not exactly sure what happened. Either I missed what I was trying to grab, lost my balance, and fell or whatever I was aiming for was not secure and moved which resulted in the same outcome. I consciously did not put weight on my broken ankle and managed to hold it in the air as I fell. I heard the crack reverberate through my head as I hit the floor. I could hear people – the staff – calling out around me. Over the PA system was the announcement of a code blue in the satellite map. Surely that wasn’t for me?
I closed my eyes when I became dizzy. I don’t remember being out but staff did say I was. I know that my head was spinning inside and I didn’t want to open my eyes to see the result of the fall. I could not believe what had happened. My life was turning into a bad Mr. Bean movie
When I did open them I was surrounded by a number of doctors who had responded to the code blue. They began to ask me questions and I answered them coherently. One of the doctors checked to make sure there was no damage to my spine or neck. They asked if I could sit up but my head was spinning still. I put a hand behind my head and in a few moments could feel the warmth of blood oozing down. When I pulled out my bloody hand from behind my head, and announced I was bleeding, someone checked it and said that I would probably need stitches. My heart sank.
The story is long and I will fill in the details as time goes by in future posts. I could not remember the password for my blog so I have been locked out until I finally remembered it. I remain in hospital as I write this, too dizzy from a mild concussion to return home with my broken ankle on which I cannot bear weight.
For the first few days, I slept and did not allow for visitors other than my mother, my sister and my friend who was with me when I came for the blood work. I do not mind being in a bubble because I have been scared another injury may happen. The broken ankle and this mild concussion are enough to deal with. The concussion comes with a fair amount of dizziness so I am bedridden..
Today’s beautiful readings on the second Sunday of Advent fit perfectly with my situation. Isaiah 40 begins with “Comfort, comfort my people.” It ends with the promise that “God will gather the lambs in his arms and carry them in his bosom and gently lead the mother sheep.” I know that God desires to comfort me and to gather me into loving arms. The Second Reading from 2 Peter 3 has advice for the reader: “Therefore, beloved, while you are waiting for these things, strive to be found by him at peace.” The reference here is waiting for a new heaven and a new earth to appear. While I wait, I pray for peace. The Gospel today speaks about preparing the way, something I must do. Time is of the essence for me.
On this Second Sunday of Advent, I pray for for peace in my own heart and in yours. May you find comfort in the arms of a loving God as we prepare for the coming of the Incarnate One.
Has your life ever seemed like a Code Blue—a critical incident?
How are you preparing the way, regardless of your current circumstances?
Compassionate Comforter, gently gather me in your arms, lifting my spirits and revealing your glory. Bring peace in whatever circumstances I find myself as I wait to see you face-to-face. Amen.
I was stunned and heartbroken to learn of your latest mishap. Thankful that you are able to write us and thankful that you have extra special care right now. It sounds like you are finding comfort and, I hope, some peace at being in God’s loving arms. I pray you feel His tenderness and hear His voice as He calms you and heals your wounded body.
Please remember that I am holding you in my heart daily. “E’en So, Lord Jesus, Quickly Come”:
I was pretty stunned too, Mary Beth. Thanks for your continued care and prayers. Peace!