If You Save A Life...

There is a Chinese proverb, "If you save a life, you responsible for that life." Most of use have heard the other saying, "If you save a life, the person whose life you saved is indebted to you for life." I used to believe the latter. I have since learned the Chinese were, and are, spot on.

This is a topic near to my heart. Just as when I posted about the death of my child, it is difficult to dwell on and share, but here goes.

Several years ago I was in management. It was a good job, but it wasn't the right job for me. So, I left management and went back to what I enjoyed and knew best - computer programming.  I was moved to a project team about whose product I was not familiar. I became friends with a couple of the women on the team, and we would socialize outside of work occasionally. One friend in particular had been going through a relatively stressful time, and her health was at odds on occasion.

There was one week she called in sick. The weekend came and went, and when she had not returned on Monday, I asked if anyone had heard from her. I grew concerned when no one had. I had her number so I called. It took a few tries before she answered the phone. Her voice was so weak I could hardly hear her.  She was extremely weak and didn't think she would be able to get to the doctor. She sounded so ill I offered to take her myself.

Good thing, too. When we got to the doctor, they took one look at her and called the EMTs to take her to the ER. I am still embarrassed and that I didn't just take her there myself. See, she was paper white when I picked her up. No exaggeration. She was so weak, I had to help her from the door of her house to the car.  And I am ashamed to say I just dropped her off at the door so I could park.

Since the EMTs took her to the ER. The staff got her into the back STAT.  Her blood pressure was almost non-existent, her pulse was very low, and when the nurse tried to find a vein for an IV, there was none to be found.

The human body holds between 8 and 10 pints of blood. Red blood cells continually regenerate. The doctors estimate that when my friend came into the ER her body contained roughly 3 pints of blood. Internally, she was bleeding to death. That she was conscious was a miracle in itself.

This happened on a Monday morning, typically the busiest day of the week in an ER, and we spent several hours in the ER for treatment and waiting for a room. My friend's nearest relative (her parents are deceased) was several thousand miles away in Alaska. My friend was sick, in pain, scared, tired and I don't know what else. And there was no way I was going to leave her. The only time I left was when she had to go for the MRI. She was given 6 pints of blood while waiting for a room, and the effects were immediate. She started feeling stronger and color came back into her face. It was like night and day.

If I recall correctly, she got a room in the Critical Care unit around 9:PM that night. By then they were starting to discover what was causing the massive bleeding. And within a few days it was confirmed. Stage 4 Uterine cancer. She had to go in for surgery as quickly as possible. All of this was overwhelming, so I offered to call her sister and friends to let them know what was going on. That phone call to her sister. I now know what a policeman goes through when delivering bad news. Though it was over the phone, the shock, fear and great panic were evident. She got the quickest flight out, and I met her at the airport.

Legal issues today being what they are, I had to ask my friend for permission before sharing her condition to folks at work. My friend was going to be in the hospital for a while and would be receiving medical treatment over several months. And she would need help - driving, caring for her animals, cleaning, etc. Anyone who's worked for the same company for a while knows that your coworkers a like a second family. Not as close as your actual family, but in times of need, everyone rallies together. And it was so in this case. My friend did not realize we valued her as much as we did until this crisis. People from all over the company contributed time and money to assist not only during her hospital stay but also throughout her chemotherapy and radiation treatments.

I am happy to share that my friend is now in her fifth cancer-free year. And she is a new woman. She exudes confidence, is one of the primary go-to folks at work, she is vivacious, travels extensively, and most of all she is happy. Before her experience she was struggling to find her place. She has carved her niche and is living her life just as I think she had always dreamed.

But back to the Chinese proverb - "If you save a life, you are responsible for that life." A niggling in my mind got me to asking about my friend that fateful day. And  I couldn't let it go. For that reason, my friend is still gracing us with her vitality and life. I, too, was with her when she was at her most vulnerable. We talked about things one only mentions when life is ebbing away. And I and another friend of mine worked with her sister to take care of her living situation that first week.

When all of this happened people talking to me would say something to the effect that "you saved her life" or "if you hadn't gone over..." Technically, they are correct. But I believe there was a bigger hand in it. Just as when my son died (http://myredefinedlife.blogspot.com/2011/11/angel-baby.html), God and His Grace took over. I was compelled to ask about my friend, which resulted in her hospitalization. What I find curious, though, is that my friend and I have not talked once about that day. I think, in a way, neither of us wants to. So much happened, and so much was shared during this dark time.

Even more interesting is that I find I want very much for her happiness. We are on different teams now, on different floors, so I rarely see her. But when I do, I ask after her, wanting to know what is going on in her life. You see, I want to be sure she is doing well. I feel an obligation that, since I was there at such a critical time, I need to ensure she leads a happy, productive life. And when I see her in the elevator or I go to visit with her, I am profoundly happy that she has found happiness and satisfaction. If it weren't the case, I would be failing in my obligation, my duty.

And because of this experience, I now understand and believe the Chinese proverb "If you save a life, you are responsible for that life."

Angel Baby

Today is November 14, 2011. I start with this because it is the birth, and death, date of my third child. Rufus Hamons Jenkins III was due November 18, 2002 via planned C-Section. Thursday, November 14, was my last appointment before the C-Section.

As a family, we were very excited. DD was 10, and DOS had turned 9 the previous week. The pregnancy had gone incredibly well. There were no issues, and it was considered a low-risk pregnancy. So, I went to work and at 11:00 was in the exam room for our typical appointment. So, when the Ob-Gyn couldn't find the heartbeat at first, I was not alarmed. We figured it was the device as it was an older one. When she couldn't find baby's heartbeat with a different device, I started sweating. When they brought the ultrasound machine into the room, I knew something was very, very wrong. I called DH. His work was only a block away, and he could hear in my voice this was an emergency. He literally ran out of the office over to the doctor. The ultrasound proved devastating. Our sweet, lovely baby's heart, instead of rapidly beating, was still. "Check it again." I said. And still, no heartbeat.

Our world fell apart then and there. The office staff was hushed, and we were ushered into the scheduling room so they could schedule a C-Section ASAP. I couldn't fathom that this little being I'd been carrying for 9 months could actually have died. When we left the office, only DH and I, the doctor, and a couple office staff were present. The atmosphere was somber.

We went over to the school and took DD and DOS out. And we walked them over to the church. And it was there that we told them Baby Rufus would not be coming home with us. The sorrow in their little faces was indescribable. And the fear, when they looked at me, was worse. For I knew they were wondering if mommy was going away too. DOS cried, but DD was stoic. And to be honest, that scared me more than anything. I look back on that day and the weeks that followed, and I believe she was trying to be strong for me. But at such a young age! It was her for whom I hurt the most. She was so excited about being a big sister. She had helped plan the baby shower, and her participation in that and her gifts for her brother touched me more than almost anything else in the world. And I could see in her eyes, the depth of the loss she felt, and there was nothing I could do to take it away or make it better.

The rest of the afternoon blurred. Some things I remember clearly. Others not so much. A family friend came and took the children. She was their surrogate mom until my parents and sister came into town. And it was her, we knew, who would try to keep their days as normal as possible.

At the hospital we were ushered into a delivery room. I filled out the paperwork, and we just sat there. Waiting. I later found out the maternity ward had scheduled this C-Section to be the last for the day. Since this was the same hospital DH worked at, many of his coworkers, nurses and staff alike, came by to offer their condolences. DH's siblings came by, but I asked him to keep them from coming in. It was hard enough maintaining my composure. I just wanted to be alone. I didn't want to share this pain.

Then the phone rang. Earlier in the day I'd left a message on my Sunday School teacher's home phone to say briefly what had happened. It just so happened one of the ladies in my class had connections and found out what hospital we were in. So, Dawn called. She knew I didn't want to talk, but her phone call was cathartic. It roused me out of the shock I was in. And her call reminded me that though this was happening to me and my family, we were not alone in our sorrow.

A short time later we met with the anesthesiologist, doctor and nurses, and then DH and I were in the OR. Not long after that Baby Rufus was born. The room was silent. So, so silent.

As with all our children, DH went with baby to bathe and clothe him. And once I was in the recovery room, he and Baby Rufus came to visit. The nurses, staff, everyone, they were so considerate. We were the only ones in the recovery room, and they were so - reverential. The loss of a baby really does affect all souls.

We took photos, and then we went to a private room. It was in the maternity ward where the staff are best equipped to meet the needs of post-partum mothers. I didn't know until we checked out that we were in the room farthest from the nursery and there was a sign on our door to indicate the loss of a baby. DH and I spent the night with Baby Rufus. This is typical. And I am very thankful we had that night. It was my time to bond with my baby before letting him go. I talked to Baby Rufus while DH slept, and when dawn broke, I accepted what was and what had to be.

We had a graveside memorial service for Baby Rufus. DD and DOS selected special items to include in his casket, and we each added our mementos at the graveside. This was DD and DOS only time to visit their little brother. As hard as it was for mom and dad, we felt it would be exponentially more difficult for our children. We were amazed at the number of people; family, church members, coworkers, friends, school teachers and classmates, who came to the service. And I remember almost all of who was there.

I don't pretend to remember much of that week or many weeks following, but there were moments, events, significant times in which everything is still crystal clear. And I am thankful for those memories. They are special to me, and they are a gift to me. One of the the things I remember most during this time is that I learned the meaning of "Grace." I can't really put into words the definition of grace, but I do know what it is and from where it comes. And I know grace is a gift from God. A gift for which I am eternally grateful.

Happy Birthday Baby Rufus, my angel baby.