My Story - August 2003

This is the story of the most difficult time of our lives. May the telling of it bring hope to others and help me to heal.

8/30/03 Saturday 10 pm

It is so nice to be at home and not at the hospital, and it is really nice not to be afraid. This has been the nicest day in the past 2 months. No one has asked how Phil is. I’ve been able to get a lot done and yet have felt relaxed and took a wonderful nap.

I sort of had a melt-down earlier this week. For 5 out of the last 6 business days, I have been at the medical clinic for one reason or another for either Eva or Phil, plus I took Phil to see Dr. D. on Wednesday, and I guess it was too much. The last straw occurred on Thursday morning. Eva had seen Mike on Tuesday about her hypoglycemia and he wanted to do a 5-hour glucose tolerance test on Thursday. Since Kevin had to go to work, I said that I would come and be with her after I was finished at work.

Even though the Lord had told me to leave Phil alone, I had been so very frustrated and had been pushing him to try going back to work, and he had told me that he needed a note from Dr. H. saying that he could go back to work part-time as able. I asked the nurse for the note and she had come back to our waiting room saying that Phil had called and said that he was not going back to work next week and didn’t need the note. She made it sound like that was the only reason he had called (it wasn’t) and I was furious. I said that I wanted the note so that whenever he decided to go back, we would have it. I told her that all he does is sit in his room and that he was afraid to re-enter real life. (In fact, he had said to me, “You need to get on with your life.” like he was dead.) I had expected trouble physically but was totally unprepared for emotional problems.

She finally agreed to give me a note and while she went to get it, I called Phil because I was so angry that he had caused all this trouble with the nurse. While I was still talking to him, she came back, handed me the note and then stood there. After I got off the phone, she said, “The doctor said that work is the last thing that he needs to do.” As we talked, she said that I needed to get him out of the house every day because that would help him. This was a total surprise and at first, I couldn’t even think of anywhere to take him until Eva suggested the store where I work.

Looking back, I can see that being at the clinic all that day and then having the nurse lay that responsibility on me was just too much, but at the time all I was aware of was feeling overwhelmed and also feeling very resentful towards Phil. I felt desperate to get away from him and be alone, but felt like the doctor and nurse were expecting me to keep him with me all the time that I wasn’t at work and that I had to think up places to take him. It felt like (feels like) I have a small child to look after and it was so unexpected and just too much.

Yesterday I cried through my whole quiet time. I thought that maybe it was just a needed release but when the time was over, I wasn’t finished. When I came home after work to get Phil for his “outing”, I couldn’t even be nice to him and knew that I had a major problem

First, we went to get his paycheck, but I realized that he didn’t need to go into that building, so I went in intending not to tell anyone that he was in the car. But the secretary needed him to sign something and then when I opened his check, it looked like a regular paycheck so we thought something was wrong. I told her that he was in the car but I didn’t want anyone else to know, so she walked out there with me. As they were looking at his check stub and trying to figure out what had happened, I saw a folded yellow note at the bottom of the envelope. It said that due to donations, they were able to make payroll for him. When I handed him the note, he started to cry and cry. It was hard for him and kind of awkward because Wilma was there and he couldn’t stop crying. She was sweet though.

After that I did other errands, including going to the medical clinic to get another prescription for him, this time for an anti-anxiety drug. We ended up at the church building because I wanted to drop off the tithe, plus I thought that we both needed prayer. By that time, he was a wreck emotionally. We sat in the prayer room waiting for the pastor and Mark, and Mark rushed in to get a book. On his way out, he stopped and hugged Phil, and after he left I told Phil that was a big deal because Mark isn’t really a hugger. He started tearing up again and said that he was probably going to cry when they prayed for him. They came in and I left because I needed individual ministry. Throughout this ordeal, we have been together more than ever before and it has been good for our marriage, but I need to be separate from him now. I was craving separateness.

When it was my turn, Mark came and told me that he had to leave. He was very sorry and was sweet about it, offering to meet with me any time that afternoon, but by then I was feeling better because Phil and I had talked in the car and I was able to tell him how I was feeling. The pastor and I mostly talked and then he prayed and it was OK.

When I went back into the sanctuary to find Phil, he was sitting on the front row crying and crying. Everything having to do with worship is dead in him and it had just hit him and he was grieving intensely. God had given him a vision and it was dead. I told him that this is actually a good thing because it needs to die so that God can resurrect it.

I wonder how long it will be. How long until Phil is better? How long until the works of our hands are burned up? How long until the resurrection and fulfillment of the vision we feel like God has given us? How long?