Day 12, morning
Yesterday was another day on the coma trail with no end date in sight. The Doppler readings were marginally better than the day before, and there were a few hours of wait-and-see before it was determined to do another angio rather than give Kathy a day’s respite. I say go for it, even though it’s apparently a disturbance to her healing mindrest. For one thing, I try not to wake Kathy up in the morning when she wants to sleep in, but like a child I can’t wait for her, so I do. So I’m kind of used to it, even if she’s not. (yes, it’s all about me). But the overriding concern here is that 1) Kathy is strong, and she’s been “tolerating” this procedure well the past three days and 2) giving the spasms another day to squeeze those vessels doesn’t work for me. So, into the “special ops” room they went.
The procedure takes about 2 ½ – 4 hours. So I took the time to visit the Cottage Hospital Rehab Center, which is truly the top rehab facility on California’s central coast for stroke. One way or another, I’m determined that’s where we’ll go when Kathy gets her discharge papers. I’ll get a better tour of the facility another day, hopefully next week. Meanwhile, here’s one thing I like about it.
I’m staying at a motel across the street from Cottage Hospital. We’re in a quiet part of Santa Barbara, tucked in somewhere between mall-heavy uptown and the city-sanctioned, tile-roofed fantasy Spanish AdobeLand of downtown. The walk to the rehab facility is about four blocks. I truly love this neighborhood. It’s anchored by Cottage Hospital and another large medical facility, Sansum Clinic. Surrounding them is a lovely residential neighborhood inhabited by a mixed bag of elderly retired folks, service workers, and families, mostly Mexican American from what I can tell. Modest turn-of-the-century adobe and wood-sided bungalows, some rental apartments of a more recent vintage. Yards proudly maintained. Very little traffic. Oak trees, magnolias, Monterey pines. Bougainvillea, agapanthus in profusion (although I expect those to diminish fast, as we’re at day two of a weeklong heat wave).
Pedestrians that you encounter look you in the eye, smile and nod. Mostly local residents going about their day. Some healthcare workers going to and from work at one of the medical facilities. Some are hospital visitors strolling the neighborhood, waiting for news of their loved ones. Soft background sounds coming from homes and passing cars are mostly children playing and música norteña. The atmosphere of simplicity and humane warmth here is very like what prevails at Cottage, and I suspect that the air of caring deeply about life has somehow drifted from the hospital to its environs. It’s like a mild contagion of wellness and fellowship. I would be proud to live here.
Last Friday evening, afraid for Kathy and my future, I was walking the streets and came across a modest church just blocks from where I’m staying. I’m not sure what denomination, don’t really need to know. Kathy and I aren’t churchgoers. The doors were open, services were being held, in Spanish, and I sat on the steps outside, listening without comprehending, slumped and building fear. After a short time a man came outside and invited me in. I declined, he blessed me and gave me a bottle of water, and went back in. After a few minutes I calmed down and kept on walking. Last night, another Friday, I was there again while service was on. The whole congregation prayed for Kathy. New tears, I don’t know what to call them. Several evenings since that first Friday, usually when there’s no service, I’ve returned to sit on those steps. It’s very restorative.
During Kathy’s rehab I know one place we’ll be going for her physical therapy, whether by wheelchair, crutches, walker, strolling hand-in-hand or arm-in-arm. I’ll just say come on, Kathy, and off we’ll go. We’ll sit on those steps in the evening, watch the world go by, nod and smile at passersby, and count our blessings. That place has been very healing for me, and I know it will be for Kathy too.
14 Comments on Day 12, morningYesterday was another day on the
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wow Richard! Thank you for sharing that story. It is morning in the canyon.. good morning Kathy dear! I can hear lots of baby birds out there.. I am in shadow in our little home but I can see sun on the western slope of the hills. The lavender field is getting its deep purple on and the vapors are wafting up to me. Breathe in slowly… do you smell them? Breathe out slowly… I fed my starter last night and will be on a mission to bring you some “bread of Life”.. but first.. off to Saturday Farmers to get some good stuff to put in the bread!
Thank you Richard once again for insight into your pain, suffering, love and optimism. Just a little of a very changed life you have now, in limbo, waiting for Kathy’s strength and tenacity to bring her back……She will wake up and wonder “What the..” And read your journal of love and feeling. Ongoing Prayers daily for her and the family she loves so much…
Let’s go Richard. We’re all with you.
Even though Kathy *at present* cannot walk with us Richard…we do take her everywhere – in our hearts. She’s traveling so near in you right now, and so far in so many of us. I hope our La Paz, gives her just that right now. Like Kathy, so are you in our hearts. And we hope La Paz gives you something a little from us on those ‘steps’. Literally and figuratively. Manny and Lola. xo
This is the first thing I read every morning, thank you so much for keeping us informed. My heart is with you. Amazed at how positive you are staying, wish there was something I could to help.
Patty
Like Patty, we read your blog every day hoping for news of Kathy, but also concern for you as well. Holding your hands in spirit. Paul, Nancy and Sally (whose away from home Mom has been Kathy for 17 years).
I can see the neighborhood and church as you write about them and am grateful that they have given you a place of comfort and peace. I know that Kathy can feel the touch of the community of God through you and what sense of peace and hope that have surrounded you on those stairs. I pray that each night when you lay your head down you find rest and strength and Kathy steps closer to coming home.
Even though I know that SB neighborhood well, see it, smell it, hear it, your words bring it to life again for me and for the first time for Kathy’s friends and loved ones who don’t know it. I am sitting on those steps with you, crying, praying, talking in whispers to you and your sweet woman. I hope you do not feel alone in this long, impatient wait, because you are not. We are all sitting on those steps.
Richard, thank you so much for sharing this journey with all of us in the deeply personal way you do so well. I wrote an email to the girls this morning to share what is happening and I share that with you, and eventually Kathy, here:
Richard Stradburg’s wife Kathy (Lauryn she was there for part of your birth with Jayson, I think) had a bad stroke and is in an induced coma in Santa Barbara. This is Richard’s blog about what is happening.:
http://www.kathyscottagestay.com/
They could both use your prayers and I know you will both be inspired by Richard’s writing.
They have always been one of the couples that I admired as having one of those ideal life-long loving relationships where even after 30+ years of marriage, when Kathy walked into the room, Richard’s eyes would light up.
It’s worth taking time to read.
In the midst of all the consternation about the health care industry–and I’ve had my share–this also shows the medical industry at its finest, doing what it does best: bringing compassion, expertise and technology to perform miracles to save a life.
love,
mom
Hi Richard and Kathy, I too read your blog every morning to start my day. I hope one day when this is all over and Kathy is recovered (as I know she will be in my heart), you will turn this into a book… It is so well written, I can feel and see all around you… I know that neighborhood well. Nathan, my youngest son, had a cornea transplant there at Sansum clinic and I also stayed at a nearby place, maybe where you are staying. We only have positive things to say about that experience even though it was a very difficult time. So glad you are finding some peace and optimism in all of this and kinow Kathy would be the same way if the roles were reversed. Love, Christine
Much love , positive thoughts, and prayers to you & Kathy!
Richard,
You and Kathy are in my heart and in my prayers. Thank you for sharing your loving words as you experience this most difficult challenge.
Warmest regards,
Leslie Siembieda
Richard. Larry just read this blog outloud for us. I was transported by your vivid images, which made me feel close and cared for, as Kathy must be by your vigil. We await on the steps with you in anticipation of the awakening of your sleeping darling.
Richard, I just came back to work today after vacation and heard about Kathy. I am so sorry this has happened,and my thoughts have been with the two of you all day. The last day I worked before vacation, Kathy was in the hallway charting and we said Hi as we always do. She asked me about the applicants for the management position. I can’t elaborate too much on a public site, as you know. Anyway, we wagered $5 on the result, and she owes me!! Actually, I only expect $2.50.
She waved at me later, and said ” Five dollars!” We have had so many quick but great conversations in the nourishment room of all places over the years as we work in different units.
I know she will have a full recovery,and having you there will be a big part of it. You are so eloquent, and your complete love for her is evident.
I feel privileged to be able to read about your journey.