Hospitals are the worst

Yes they are.

However they are necessary and I am grateful for times that they provide care for the the ones I hold dear.

My cousin, more like a sister has been in a New Orleans hospital ICU for three weeks. Her medical history is quite extensive and this surgery was promised as a “long awaited fix.” I have kept track of her progress through family since February 28th.

It’s uphill and then downhill

Up and Down

Down then Up

Mom and I road-tripped to New Orleans Monday.

The weather was awful, it rained all day

We got stuck behind this truck full of logs and I swear it looked like they would roll out and run us over

No I did not take this picture while I was driving. Don’t go there

I ate McDonalds. Gross

It was supposed to take 8 hours.

We lost an hour so it changed to 9 and the weather challenges made it 10.

We made it to the hotel and had a restful sleep even though it was time change all over again. Asleep at 9 and up at 4. Geez. I also forgot my contact case so there are currently two plastic cups labeled right and left on the hotel bathroom counter.

When your loved one suffers, the clock seems to drag on and on and on.

Tubes and machines are a constant reminder of where we are.

It’s a beautiful day outside

Mom reads while I scroll through home decorating sites and social media outlets to pass the time as she sleeps.

We gown up, because we need to protect her.

My friends check on me.

They know how hard times like these are.

I wore my elephant bracelet.

It holds special meaning to me.

My girl Becky brought it back from Africa for me.

Do you know the story of the Female Elephants?

In the wild, when a mama elephant is giving birth, all the other female elephants in the herd, back around her in formation. They close ranks so the delivering mama cannot even be seen in the middle. They stomp and kick dirt and soil to throw attacker’s off the scent and basically act like a pack of fierce body guards.

They surround the mama and incoming baby in protection, sending a clear signal to predators that if they want to attack their friend while she is vulnerable, they’ll have to get through forty tons of female aggression first.

When the baby elephant is delivered, the sister elephants do two things: they kick sand or dirt over the newborn to protect its fragile skin from the sun, and then they all start trumpeting, a female celebration of new life, of sisterhood, of something beautiful being born in a harsh, wild world despite enemies and attackers and odds.

Whenever I look down at my bracelet, I know that my tribe says. “We have you. You are never alone.”

As I sit in the hospital room and hold the puke bucket for my sweet sister, it’s my way of kicking up the dirt and sending a message to this stupid disease that my God is bigger than any sickness and we will not give up.

2 Corinthians 12:9

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses so that Christ’s blessing will rest on me.”