I Just Called to say I Love You

" I just called to thank you for all you did. I love you, thanks". Mike called many friends and family. For me, hearing I love you from someone I love so much is special anytime, but this I love you was extraordinary. Twelve days ago (October 14) my brother, Mike, had stopped breathing and was non-responsive.

I still tear up as I recall the events of the last several days: our brother hooked up to various machines with tubes in his mouth and nose, wearing an oxygen mask. He was out of it and we were terrified.

I received the call from my brother, Joe. I think the words were: "Mike's been taken to the hopsital. He stopped breathing and he's not responding, eyes rolled back; it doesn't look good."

I missed the call and as I listened to his voice message, I was screaming inside: Oh no, God. Please, God, no! I shook off my tears and fears and returned his call--no change. He repeated: it doesn't look good. I asked if he'd contacted Charmaine (sister). He'd left word. She and I drove home together, getting updates along the way. One report was that Mike had had a stroke; another possibility was an infection of the blood or in the brain. The doctors didn't know. We arrived in some nine hours after Mike was stricken. Joe met us at the hospital. His expression told us to be prepared.

As we road up in the elevator, my heart swelled with love and appreciation for Joe. He had made all the calls and kept things under control.

When we entered Mike's room I was fighting for control--deep breaths. Someone moved and Charmaine and I took up positions at his bedside. I was holding his hand, rubbing his shoulder, praying, holding back tears, reminding myself to breath as I listened to be sure he was breathing. I looked across at my sister and around the room at Mother, brothers Joe and Bill, knowing they were feeling the same anguish. The family continued to stream into ICU. Others stepped out to call updates to still more family and friends, and to request prayers.

Mike had stopped breathing twice. When the paramedics arrived, they kept him alive and readied him for transport. Consulting with the hospital, they deferred administering a drug to try to bring him around because the drug triggers a very violent reaction. It was decided that they would wait until they arrived at the hospital where he could be restrained. (I'm not sure if Mike being an former golden glove boxer entered the decision-making process.)

I heard from our sister-in-law, Candy, how hard the paramedics worked to save our brother. These people are so dedicated and work tirelessly. Mike is 6'3" and probably 270+ pounds. I'm not sure how 270 pounds equates when it's dead weight. I heard they had to call additional units and it took seven paramedics of get him out of the house.

We are so grateful. Thank you.

Candy came home to find Mike still in bed at 10 o'clock in the morning. Sensing something was odd, she checked on him. She couldn't get him to wake up, then he stopped breathing. Panic-stricken, she screamed at him to wake up, she pounded and pounded on his chest. Frantically she called her daughter: Keri, I can't get Mike to wake up. He's stopped breathing! Mom, hang up and call 911!

Mike nearly died from an overdose and/or mix up in prescription drugs. If you read my hub: "...Without a Limb", http://hubpages.com/hub/Coping-with-Disability--Without-a-Limb you'll recall that Mike had had a muscle transplanted from his back which was used to reconstruct his left arm. He's been on various medications every since.

Mike was concerned that the price for his medications was dramatically increasing. With him on disability and his wife now unemployed, Mike asked the doctor for a less expensive prescription. He was prescribed Methadone. With drugs still in his system then adding Methadone three times a day, you can draw your own conclusions.

Mike was non-responsive for more than eight hours. It was nearly 36 hours before we were encouraged that he would live and recover mostly unscaved. After three days, miraculously we sat in the living room of Mike and Candy's home. Mike sat on the sofa with Mother tucked under his arm. We were a weary bunch. And we are so blessed that our Mike is still with us.

We feel we've been a part of a miracle. IF Candy had went anywhere but straight home after her meeting. IF she hadn't paid attention to Mike's sleeping too late. IF the paramedics hadn't arrived in time. IF, what an powerful little word.

Mike's I love you call came one week after his ordeal. He is back on his original medications, has suffered some short-term memory loss, and he is on a breathing machine to help with his sleep apnea.

This is Mike's third near-death experience. He went overboard when his fishing boat capsized, nearly bled to death when his arm was crushed in heavy machinery, and now this. Clearly God has plans for him here and is not ready for him yet. Selfishly, that's just fine with us because we're not ready to let him go.

Thanks you, God

We are a family who gathers frequently: camping during summer and fall, holidays and just because. Mother calls it "Making Memories". Please don't wait for "The Call" or death to get together and share your love for each other.