I’ll wait for my own elevator ride…

Rudy’s been peaceful all day except for a brief moment just now when he opened his eyes for a look around.  As we expected, the lymphangiogram is scheduled for Monday so the plan for this weekend is for Rudy to hold his ground and keep making progress on his nutrition.  Waiting ain’t fun but it’s something we’ve learned to do.  Thanks for waiting in prayer and please continue as you are able.

 

A highlight today was a visit from friends we never knew we had.  Yvonne from the Office of Clinical Trials here at the Geffen School of Medicine came by.  Their office adopted us for Christmas and she delivered a sweet card and gift certificate for our family.  We invited her to pass on word about Rudy’s Beat to the folks at the office, so if any of you are reading this, thanks so much—boosts like that mean more than you might think.

 

 

I’ve touched before on the notion of the “emotional hospital gowns” we’ve grown used to wearing.  We’re grateful Rudy is stable and that we’re not in constant anguish, but there come moments when emotions sideswipe us by surprise and everything just falls out into the open.

 

I was waiting by myself for the elevator here on the floor when I heard commotion coming up on me from the left.  A family was being discharged from maternity.  It was a happy procession (as it should be) with Mom in a wheelchair holding the precious cargo, dad and other family members following with luggage, staff and volunteers serving as escorts and lending a hand with balloons and flower arrangements.  The elevator I had called for arrived right about the same time they did and, displaying the chivalry my mom taught me, I stepped to the side and held the door for them to get in.

 

The entry took longer than most as it included the giddy process of getting Mom pushed and turned, getting everyone arranged around her and then the balloons through the door. Not an inordinate amount of time, but long enough for my emotions to surprise me.  I would normally have played the role of the pleasant stranger along for the ride with aplomb, offered my congratulations and obligingly gushed over their new baby.  But just before the door closed, I stepped away and mumbled about getting the next one.  It took me a few minutes to collect myself before I could get it together enough to push the button again.  I resolved on the spot that there is NO WAY I’m going to settle for sharing someone else’s elevator ride home.  I want my own.

 

In ten weeks, I’ve experienced just about everything one can (and certainly more than anyone would want to) in this hospital, but one thing I haven’t had is my family elevator ride home.  It seems so long ago that I almost have to remind myself that this whole odyssey started with Rudy’s birth on this floor and the subsequent stay in maternity.  Since then, there’s been an interruption in the usual progression.  I can wait as long as I need to, but I will have my own elevator ride.

 

9 thoughts on “I’ll wait for my own elevator ride…

  1. Wow – that one even choked me up. The insides of hospitals are their own cultures mostly invisible to the busy world buzzing by it, filled with indelible images of fear, joy, grief, relief, hope and worry as you so powerfully described. Our prayer for you and your entire family is that your experience of joy will be soon. Stand firm.

  2. Rolf, That’s a good description of the emotional high jacking that comes up on you out of nowhere…you sideswiped me on this one, and I am now going to add the picture of the Geyling family in the elevator together to my prayers for Rudy…it will help focus me on what a healthy Rudy will look like! We love you guys, and are praying for you all this evening. Let us know if Max needs any Lisea time tomorrow (Saturday). You’ve got my #.

  3. Rolf, you and I have not met. I had the pleasure of chatting with your lovely wife and children during their visit to Kansas this year. I work in the National Center for Fathering office with “Uncle Steve”. After these weeks of hanging on your every blog word, I felt it was time to send a note. The descriptions of medical moments vs. life moments keep me both amused and amazed. I’m addicted to Rudy’s Beat. Even though many of us only know of you and sweet Rudy through another source, we talk with our Heavenly Father frequently on your behalf. I know your extended family and friends are especially grateful for the technology that allows them to read about your journey and watch it in living color! Thanks for opening your lives to us.

  4. All I can say, through my own tears for you, is ditto to what Vera Lu says. Thanks for sharing all of this with us. I am so much more aware of your situation through your honest and open blog reports that are so well written!

  5. …again, I sit here with tears rolling down my cheeks. Your eloquent discriptions put me there, with you, seeing the whole picture. I can only hope YOUR ride comes soon.

  6. Love you and keep thinking about y’all and the time at Rudys bedside.
    Praying that you will have that elevator ride soon.
    Bussi Oma + Opa

  7. Dear Rolf, Trish and Family,

    This was indeed very touching and just so honest. I know that you will have your own elevator ride home. As I have been learning (finally!), God’s timing is always the right timing for everything although we just do not comprehend at the particular moment. God gives three answers to our prayers: 1. Yes! 2. Not yet 3. I have something better in mind. I just read a touching Christmas story about the power of prayers even in the most difficult siutations. God still sits on the throne, the devil is a liar. You may be going through a tough time right now, but God is getting ready to bless you in a way that you cannot imagine!!!!! I cannot wait to see you tomorrow!!!

    Love always,
    Tanya

  8. Rolf, your ENTIRE family WILL be in that elevator and it will be a joyous ride! I believe it in the precious name of Jesus, for we walk by faith not by site. Let’s praise God now for that ride! Yahoo! P.S. My daughter Mandee says you should be writing a book Rolf.

  9. Rolf, my heart ached when i read this entry. my child was critically ill at birth (having suffered a stroke in utero shortly before he arrived) and one of the hardest things about those early days was seeing other families leave the hospital with their babies while mine was in the fight for his life upstairs in the NICU. I found your site today and am reading all of the entries in chronological order. please know that I am joining the thousands of prayers warriors that are holding precious Rudy in their hearts and I will pray without ceasing for God’s grace and healing and timing and for the skill and compassion of his medical team.

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