23. Prepare for the Worst

It rained a lot in Garmisch. But we had some good quality time together trying to catch up with the events of the past 5 and a half weeks. We went shopping together, and cooked some hearty American meals and baked chocolate chip cookies. Indoor pool was a must for the older kids as well as the Harry Potter finale movie. They were invited to come along with some friends when it just came out on July 15, but Nadia and David wanted to wait for Mom and Dad to come home first. They were hoping for a family date night. Well, Saturday, Aug 6, three of us drove to Munich English movie theater to watch HP7. Nadia was so excited. I had the hardest time watching the movie. I was projecting everything I saw there into my life. Never mind wands, spells, and stone soldiers come to life. I saw the connection nevertheless. It was a heavy and dark movie but with some great insights and wisdom, and what's important - with a happy end. Voldemort is dead! Harry lived!

On Sunday Anya, kids and I went to Church in Munich. Mom had a day off, completely alone for 5 hours, she needed that! It was pouring cats and dogs outside but we pressed on and made it to Church. I felt immediately at home there. So much love and concern. So much Spirit. I felt strengthened bearing my testimony and talking to the Ward members afterwards. It was kind of cute that many of them tried to relate to my situation by sharing stories of their ailments or of what their loved ones have gone or going through. I appreciated that. We stayed for "Break the Fast" after all the meetings. Kids ran with their Church friends around the Cultural Hall, and I saw them laughing and being carefree. Just what I needed to see - life goes on and I will not let happiness fade away from my children's hearts and faces. I WILL do everything possible to keep them safe and happy. 

Like a drink of water I was waiting for Karen to call me from France every day and tell me the news about Scott. She had an arrangement with the Marseille doctors that at 3 pm she'd be getting in touch with them and then call me with an update. This was not an easy job for a friend. We only had a couple of weeks to tell us if ECMO would help or not. At some point human body cannot withstand such an extensive invasion and would either get better or shut down. On Sunday, which was day 5 of ECMO treatment, there was no change in Scott's condition.

On Monday, Aug 10, I received a call from Karen saying that ECMO does not seem to work and I need to make arrangements and fly back that coming weekend. 

***  

I've fasted ever since that day. I poured my soul out in prayer every day, many times a day... I talked to the kids... 

***

Then came the time to resolve the legal side of "what ifs." Royanna Butler, bless her heart, has been there for me. First, breaking the codes to get into my USAA bank accounts (since I'm such a clueless and oblivious wife that does not even know how much money she has on her accounts), then walking me through the "what if he dies" scenario. It was surreal, like it was not my family's situation we were discussing. I don't know how she did it but she did it; in between of all the possible gruesome details of my near future, she was adamant that everything would be ok. She did not say which part exactly would be ok, but I started believing in her words. 


Meanwhile, her husband, Scott's boss, LTC Butler has booked airline tickets for two of us to travel to Marseille that coming Saturday, Aug 13. I was so glad I was not doing it on my own anymore. So thankful for his time away from his family and from his busy schedule to help me face my trial one more time.  


If you know something horrible is inevitable, is it worth trying to make peace with God? Does it make sense to make an effort to heal yourself spiritually before you die? It was not only Scott's death I was contemplating. You see, if he dies, part of me will die also. Can my spirit handle this and can my faith carry me through? For the sake of my children? For the sake of those that love and care for us? Or should I become bitter and angry with God and hate my life? Should I let time heal me some day and try to forget this nightmare like it never happened? How would I want to see my children handle their hardships?


The answer was obvious to me: I would want them to be at peace as soon as possible. We are not entitled to happiness only because we are alive. We agreed to come to this earth and embrace both good and bad and to learn from both. Of course, an abnormal reaction to abnormal situation is normal. Being terrified while in the midst of a storm is normal. Being depressed is a normal step in recovery. But then, hopefully sooner than later, you start making connections to heavenly wisdom and things start to fall into place. Job was a great example of handling his predicaments. He sounded out my exact thoughts:

"For the thing which I greatly feared is come upon me, and that which I was afraid of is come unto me. I was not in safety, neither had I rest, neither was I quiet; yet trouble came.... What? Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil?.... Therefore I will not  refrain my mouth; I will speak into he bitterness of my soul [hence, the purpose of good friends and a blog].... Behold, he [God] withholdeth the waters, and they dry up: also he sendeth them out, and they overturn the earth. With him is strength and wisdom: the deceived and the deceiver are his. He discovereth deep things out of darkness, and bringeth out to light the shadow of death.... Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him.... Only do not two things unto me: then will I not hide myself from thee. [Do not] withdraw thine hand far from me, and let not thy dread make me afraid.... Oh, that my words were now written! oh that they were printed in a book! That they were graven with an iron pen and lead in the rock forever! For I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God!"....  But he knoweth the way that I take: when he had tried me, I shall come forth as gold. My foot hath held his steps, his way have I kept, and not declined. Neither have I gone back from the commandment of his lips; I have esteemed the words of his mouth more than my necessary food. For he performeth the thing that is appointed to me."(Book of Job) 

Thanks to many good people, I was never put in an awkward position Job was in thanks to his "friends". I did not have to defend my integrity. Nobody (at least, not at my face) accused me of doing something wrong with my life having had to deal with God's punishment as such. 


One and a half weeks spent in Garmisch has put me back on my feet, and regardless of what was to come, I was strengthened and healed to some extent. 


Now, Marseille, I go with hope and pray for faith to be able to accept...
     

22. Home At Last

August 3 Scott was transferred from L'Archet 2 Hospital in Nice to Hospital Nord in Marseille to receive ECMO treatment. Dr. Tran mentioned about this treatment as part of the absolutely worst case scenario. Basically, I did not plan for this to happen. But it happened. There was nothing else they could do in Nice to save my husband's life. The next closest place with necessary equipment was 2 hours west of Nice, which is Marseille. Extracorporeal membrane oxygenation or ECMO is a surgical procedure which involves tubes being inserted in a leg artery and blood drawn from the body and pumped through a machine that works like an artificial lung and heart delivering oxygen straight to the bloodstream. That gives rest to lungs allowing them to fight the bacteria and hopefully regain their function. 


After that Tuesday night when they picked up Scottie, I made a decision to drive home to Garmisch. First thing Wednesday morning I packed my stuff and Scott's bike, cleaned a bit, got my bottle of water from the freezer and set off for North. Fred and Karen were at work, so we said our good-byes beforehand. Leaving France was hard. Facing my circumstances 5 weeks ago, I hated that place. Now, 5 weeks later, I got attached to it: Mediterranean breeze, loud crickets, marché aux fleurs, the Lafittes... And of course, the thought of going the opposite direction from where Scott was now. I felt like I should have followed him to Marseille. But the doctors told me that I would not be able to come and visit anyway, because everything had to be sterile for the fear of complications. 


So, here I am, leaving la belle France, and entering bella Italia, and crying my eyes out. Driving for 8 hours completely solo was a torture! It's like death angels were next to me, whispering into my ear all the things that might go wrong. And at this point, they would be right. And there was nobody there to prove me otherwise, or distract me from my dark thoughts. Even Robbie Williams sounded really depressing (I will never be able to hear his songs again without bursting into tears). 


In Italy I stopped to go to the bathroom, to buy some juice and stuffed animals for the kids and fuel for the car. Once I climbed over the mountains, gusty rainstorm slapped my car. I knew I was home because the temperature on the north side of the Alps dropped like 20 degrees. Garmisch greeted me cold and sad, just the way I felt inside. I haven't eaten all day and I don't know how I stayed awake during my drive. Probably the thought of my kids, who were anticipating my return and counted so heavily on my presence, that was what kept me safe. I needed to make it home, I reminded myself. No matter how much I wanted to cling to my role as a wounded soldier, a torn-up victim, or a lonely girl with broken heart, I needed to be the strongest one of all now. I AM the mother of my children and they needed me, my comfort, my experience, my faith, my testimony, and my LOVE.


My Mom was sitting on the couch, babies leaning on both sides of her under her arms, like under the wings. My babies looked quiet. They did not even budge when I flew into the apartment. They hid their chubby faces in my Mom's sides. They did not recognize me! They both had fever caused by stomach bug, Mom said. I could not dare to rip them out of my Mom's comforting embrace, though my heart squeezed a little harder releasing the pain I did not know before. My babies did not know who I was! 


I hurried down the hall to Nadia's room. She was also sick, laying in her bed, looking out the window. My sunshine baby girl was not even finding comfort in her books. That was not a good sign. I got into bed with her and we laid there hugging and crying. She held me tight, I kissed her head that smelled of anti-lice shampoo. I was not going to see her wither. I promised myself to be her best friend and bring smiles back to her face. 


David was like his siblings in bed, with fever. They all got struck by the same bug. Knowing more than enough about fevers now, I was alarmed yet comforted. Alarmed, because I remembered instantly what a scary indication it is for Scott. Comforted, because not all causes of high body temperature are deadly. I knew that my children's fever will soon go away. Maybe, Scott's would, too?


From that Tuesday/Wednesday when we hit ground zero and felt the most vulnerable, weak, bruised, and lost, things just had to get better. And they did. At least, at home.


At first, my only way to deal with our sad situation was to curl up on a couch and lick my wounds to the point that they would remain raw. So much was I reliving my pains that they seemed to increase. This was not working, I needed to change my coping techniques. 


One of them was to ask and accept help. Anya Bikbaeva, from my Russian hometown, whom I have never met in my life before, but heard of a lot from my sister, who was friends with Anya, offered to come and help us. What's more is that she now lives in Wurzburg (she married a German guy.) She hopped on a train and 4 hours later made it to Garmisch Bahnhof where Kirill Tsekhanovski picked her up and brought her to us. 


What a blessing she was for our home! My Mom was relieved from constant heavy burden of responsibility and a huge load of work that was on her shoulders all this time. I was not as much help to my Mom as Anya was. Anya speaks good English so my older kids were able to communicate more freely. She is young, energetic, and really great with kids while I was quite not in shape to take over. Plus, it was another Russian speaking soul in our household. Do you know what that means? That means tea time in the evening, Russian movies and a lot of talking, without constantly deviating towards heavy topics of life and death. In other words, good therapy!