Friday, April 24, 2009

The Keeper of Bad Days

It’s getting late and I am tired. My husband’s shift ended a couple hours ago and I expected him long before now. With the children home all day, I’ve counted down for the moment I get a break, or at least acknowledgement from someone who doesn’t call me Mommy. My frustration builds as the time multiplies and by the time the front door opens, I’ve already had our argument a thousand times in my mind: “What have you been doing?” or perhaps “You knew the kids were home today, how could you be so inconsiderate?“ maybe even a “Don’t you even care how difficult my days can be?”

But as he walks in I see his face is troubled and I swallow the words half formed in my mouth. Instead I ask, “How was your day?” The world is weighed so heavily on his shoulders that as he sinks into the couch I worry the frame may break. As the children crawl and chatter over him he tells me about his day. There was an attempted suicide and his failed effort to reverse what was done. Followed by another attempt, half successful, leaving a body alive, a brain dead and a face half missing. He must call far away relatives to offer terrible choices: permanent life support or organ donation. Finally he sees a family waiting for simple test results for their ill child. “They had waited a long time and I didn’t want them to be lost in the shift change, so I stayed till the results came back. By that time the hospital was nearly ready to take the man up for organ harvest so I stayed with him and, as I was leaving, his grieving sister called desperate she had made the wrong choice. I comforted her the best I could.”

As I listen to his day I remember something his colleague once told me, “I never say I’m having a bad day. I’ve seen thousands of truly bad days and to call mine bad would be disrespectful.” I see a glimpse of those bad days now reflected in my husband’s tired eyes. I can’t even begin to understand the memories my husband owns: the child he spent an fruitless extra hour trying to revive only to face notifying her still hopeful mother, telling a young father of three his wife’s stroke has left him a widow, child abuse leading to 3rd degree burns. My husband sees bad days every day. He sees some of the worst humanity has to offer: suicides, assaults, attempted murders, child abuse. He also sees everyone’s worst nightmares: severed limbs, car accidents, strokes, psychological breaks, sudden and unexpected deaths mixed with long mourned ones. All this is a part of my husband’s existence.

I can imagine him, despite a long and difficult day, consoling a stranger over the phone; the image of her brother’s wounds still fresh in his mind. I see him reluctant to leave the man alone his last minutes of life and willing to go the extra mile for a family frustrated with a long wait and unaware its reason. I see him hugging our children tighter and longer than normal, patient despite his exhaustion. He tells me he is sorry to come home so late, but I know that’s a lie. He doesn’t regret his actions today. As I see him, compassionate and kind despite the constant barrage of tragedy, I suddenly realize I’m not sorry for it either.

15 comments:

  1. You have me in tears.

    Bless your dear husband.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Wow. We all need our lives put back in perspective sometimes. I'll need to come back & read this post the next time I have a week like last week. Thanks.

    ReplyDelete
  3. This is why I'm so glad my husband works in a government job with not much lasting significance. I'm pretty sure he uses it as an escape from our crazy (normal) family life. But it certainly puts things in perspective. My petty little problems, mostly brought on by my impatience, are very insignificant compared to many things. I need to remember that.

    ReplyDelete
  4. You brought me to tears. It does put my life in perspective. Your husband is amazing. Thank you Charlotte.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Good job Pete. Glad you are taking good care of not only strangers, but by dear sister and wonderful nieces and nephews. Thanks for the great outlook on life!

    ReplyDelete
  6. We all know what kind of person Pete was and we also knew what kind of mother and wife you have been for him and your children. Good job both of you.

    ReplyDelete
  7. I am about to cry. What a strong husband to be able to handle all that.

    ReplyDelete
  8. What a difficult task to be a part of the low and tragic point of people's lives. Especially to be unable to heal them when that is his greatest desire. Aren't we blessed to know the true Healer and to understand that life continues? I truly respect all the good people who serve us in emergency and life-threatening situations. It is something I don't believe is in me, but I am thankful that people like Peter rise to that calling.

    ReplyDelete
  9. So what you're saying is I should be more grateful that my husband is home everyday at 4:30 and has every weekend and holiday off? You guys are so amazing.

    ReplyDelete
  10. And I am grateful for people like the both of you. A doctor that is willing to be patient and go the extra mile and a wife that is supportive and kind. You guys are amazing and you are right, there is always something to be grateful for, always.

    ReplyDelete
  11. Thanks for the kind words. It is hard for me to comprehend the stresses of my husband's job and I try really hard to keep things in perspective.

    ReplyDelete
  12. The world is a better place because of your husband. Tell him thank-you, please, from someone in IA.

    ReplyDelete
  13. This is a beautiful post. I didn't think, as I was relating to your frustration of a late husband in the beginning, that I would be in tears in the end.

    We are all grateful that there are people like your husband in the world.

    He's lucky to have you, who can keep the perspective.

    ReplyDelete
  14. I am so glad to read this post. Not because of what happened, but I have often wondered about hospitals. They are an interesting place with so many souls coming and going. While some doctors get on my nerves, I know there are truly good-hearted doctors, like your husband, who are working hard to save people and help people. I often tried to imagine my OBGYN doctor's life: constantly bringing babies into the world - but some babies, as happened on the night we had our son - are lost. He came in to deliver our baby, after nearly 24 hours of my being in labor. I was angry - why wasn't he helping me in some way? But I know now they were short staffed and the baby prior to my delivery had died in birth. I was tired and in pain but he was apologetic and did the best he could to be cheerful with us as our son came into the world. After that night, I really tried to imagine what it was like for him and the other family that night, rather than how hard my labor had been. For doctors, it must be quite rewarding when it's good and quite difficult when it's bad. I don't think I could ever do it. Wow.

    ReplyDelete