Through the ordeal of getting Dave situated at Madonna, I was blessed to have the ongoing support of his family. But a few days after Dave was admitted, it was time for the family members to leave. An annual family event was happening and I insisted they all go - especially because I knew my side of the family would step in and provide support.
So, that day came when they all left. For the first time, I was truly alone with my husband. I stood there and stared at him in that net bed. He was awake, but had no expression on his face. It was what they called having a "flat affect." There were no smiles, no frowns, no signs of recognition. He just stared into space. Half of his head was shaved from where he had the surgery. He had a black eye and his eyes were hollow and sunken. He had lost a lot of weight. Several years earlier, I had worked with severely and profoundly mentally challenged students. He reminded me of those kids.
Up until this time, I think I had "held it together" because there was always someone around. But at that moment, I lost it.
I didn't want Dave to see me so upset, so I stepped out into the hallway. Thankfully, his room was at the far end of a hallway and there was no one around. I leaned against the wall and started to sob. I slid down the wall and sat there on the floor crying and crying. I could not believe that the person in that room was my husband. I couldn't believe this was all real.
I clenched my hands together and started to pray. I repeated over and over: "Please God, give me the strength to deal with this. Please God, give me the strength to deal with this."
All of a sudden I felt a strange sensation. It felt like an electrical current going through me. It started at my toes and surged through my body. It was so forceful that it lifted me up to a standing position. I was infused with an overwhelming sense of strength and peace. My tears instantly dried up. I shook my head in a "did that really just happen?" motion. My eyes darted from left to right to see if anyone witnessed what had just happened. There was no one, yet I knew I wasn't alone.
From that moment on, I knew Dave was going to be okay. I never shed another tear and I focused my new-found strength on doing what I needed to do to get him well. When friends came to Madonna to visit, some of them looked at me like I was crazy when I kept repeating that Dave would be okay. Their eyes said to me, "do you not see him??"
The answer is no...I did not see him - not that way. I only saw what he would become.
“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.” — Psalm 46:1.
Up next: The Prognosis