Twas The Night Before Thanksgiving....

"I'm glad I'm here," I thought as the hot water pounded out the dull pain in my lower back in the shower. "This would have been one of those days I would have spent in tears feeling guilty ... wishing I was with my family," I thought. Well that and "I hope there's a Starbucks open this morning."

I flew into Dallas on Wednesday night with David and his parents.  We were going to part ways at the airport and spend the Thanksgiving weekend in Aubrey and Allen with our families. As we all stood in baggage claim exchanging pleasantries and holiday wishes, Mom leaned over and whispered, "We are heading to the hospital. Grandmommy just had a stroke and she's there now."  

As we walked to the car I shot mom question after question ... when? where? why? what now? is she okay? ... all with the same unsure responses.  Evidently Grandmommy had the stroke as they were coming to pick me up from  the airport and they hadn't been to the hospital yet. Real answers were still 45 minutes away.  We chatted between Mom's phone calls and eventually found ourselves in the ER parking lot of the McKinney hospital just down the road from Grandmommy's apartment. Vickie was there when we pulled back the curtain.

It was good to see Grandmommy sitting almost straight up. She was covered in electrocardiogram "stickers" in a gown.  She looked strong but pititful, well but sick. 

 

The next thing I remember behind that horrible curtain in the ER on Thanksgiving Eve, we were all in hysterical laughter as Vickie recounted the events that had taken place earlier.  Grandmommy had been making pies (both pumpkin and pecan) and deviled eggs for our Thanksgiving feast. They had been eating dinner and Grandmommy said that  there was something wrong with her arm.  "Oh?"  Vickie inquired, not really paying too much attention.  "No Vickie, there is something REALLY WRONG," Grandmmomy replied.  Vickie jumped out of the chair to find that Grandmommy couldn't lift up her arm. Her words were slurred and her face was dropping on one side. Grandmommy took a drink and the liquid dribbled right out of her mouth.  Vickie, being a nurse, called 911 immediately and the paramedics were there in no time. The paramedics and firemen ... while there wasn't a fire, for some reason I imagined a scene from Backdraft. William Baldwin on one side, checking her pulse. Kurt Russell directing the others. Vickie said they were playing with the dog in that little apartment swamped with men waiting to help Grandmommy in her distress. We found this all comical enough, but it was this story that  had us rolling ...

As they were wheeling my 76-year-old grandmother out of the apartment after calling 911 for a possible stroke, she was yelling at Vickie to pull the pecan pie out of the oven. "Let me see it!" she was yelling.  "Vickie, you have to jiggle the pie to see if it's done. Let me see it! I want to see the pie!"  The grown men, who had come to help her, stopped at the oven on the way to the door to let her examine her culinary creation. With a nod of approval and a murmur of "it's ready" they proceeded to take her to the ER.  She was then able to lay back and get the attention and help she needed.  The pecan pie was baked for Thanksgiving dinner.

 

We spent the next few days in the hospital waiting on tests and then the results. She finally got to go home on Saturday, after about a 60 hour or so stay.  Her neurologist was SO GOOD and they determined that she was safe to go home.

For some reason I kept thinking about the night before Christmas poem. It was funny to come home at night and see the bowls and platters laid out, the empty cheese board, the festive fall table setting, the bread basket holding only a cotton napkin. Made me think of the line "the stockings were hung by the chimney in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there".   So, I wrote my own version of the events:

 

Twas The Night Before Thanksgiving

Twas the night before Thanksgiving and all through the house

Not a creature was stirring not even a mouse

The plates were all set on the table with care

In hopes that tomorrow the family'd be there

 

No one was nestled all snug in their beds

While visions of pecan pie danced in their heads

Mom in her work clothes and dad in his boots

Had just picked me up and were ready to scoot

 

'Cause earlier that night there arose such a clatter

Vickie and Grandmommy needed to see what was the matter

A 9-1-1 call Vickie made in a flash

Telling the operator to send help in a dash

The parking light lamps and their electric glow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below
When, what to their wondering eyes should appear,
But an ambulance truck and six men with their gear

With a tall handsome driver, so lively and quick,
They knew in a moment that all would be fixed
More rapid than eagles the fireman they came,
 whistling, and shouting, and asking her name.

"Now Doxie! now, Vickie! now, Betty Myers too!
On, firemen and paramedics and rest of the crew!
To the end of the porch! Past the parking lot wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the overpass the ambulance flew,
With all the paramedics and Betty Myers too.

And then, in a twinkling, we were under the roof
Of the hospital ER, we were starting to hoof
Back to admitting without turning around,
Down the hall mom and I came with a bound.

Betty was dressed in a gown, from her neck to her socks,
She laid in her bed listening to our talks
While Vickie told stories that made us all laugh,
About them leaving the house while we waited on staff.

Her eyes kind of twinkled - But no one was merry
Her cheeks weren't like roses - it was all a bit scary
Her droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
All of us wondering just when we could go.

The cigarettes she had held tight in her teeth,
And the smoke that encircled her head like a wreath
Had come back to haunt her it certainly seemed
And a stroke is exactly what the ailment was deemed.

Her numbers were healthy, and back to her old self,
The doctor laughed at her self-diagnosis in spite of himself,
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave us to know we had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Opening his black doctor bag, he was far from a jerk.
Listening to Betty and the stories she told,
With his care and advice, we were all sold.

He sprang to his chart, to his team gave a whistle,
And everyone flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he walked out of sight,
"Happy Thanksgiving to all, and to all a good-night!"