Uncle Shonni

Well, the past few days have been kind of hectic and emotional.  I don’t Facebook post things that happen in my family when it comes to severe medical conditions.  Some people do to ask for prayers but I don’t believe in god so that wouldn’t make sence.  And everyone who knows my uncle and is worried knows to look on Grandpa’s page for updates.  He’s the leader of the family, not me.  I’ve told a few people at school about it and they were like, “Oh, I didn’t see anything on Facebook.”  Anyway, I have mentioned my Uncle Shonni a few times in my blogs over the years, usually talking about something funny he said.  Now before I start my little rant, know he is OK so you aren’t expecting to find horrifying news.  Anyway, he and I aren’t what you would call “close,” because he is very “to himself” and quiet.  He has had health issues his entire life and lives with my grandparents.  When I was little, before he started getting too sick, he used to take my sisters and me to the bowling alley and buy us root beers and help us get those stuffed creatures out of the claw machine.  One time he was able to catch a Bart Simpson piggy bank for me and my mother did not like it at all.  Haha.  When I was in my first semester of college and working full time and going to school full time and constantly struggling to find time to do even simple things, he helped me out a lot.  He would hold Makayla when she was crying when I ran to fetch a diaper or burp cloth and helped me.  He would help me calm her down when she was crying or offer to play with her so I could go "take a break."  He would warn me about the dangers of "sexting" because he heard about it on the news and enlighten me with sports information.  I left a basket full of laundry at Grandma’s house once, upset that I was so behind on laundry and had tons of homework and my job took up all of my free time. I told her as soon as I was done with classes that day, I'd come back to her house and wash my laundry before I went to work.  When I got to her house after class, I saw Uncle Shonni had washed and folded all of it for me and said he wanted to help because he knew I was so busy.  And when I not needed, but wanted a “newer car,” he bought one for me.  He’s always been so sweet and good to the children in the family especially.  He’s gentle and sweet and kindhearted and I often feel kind of guilty when I leave my grandparents’ house because I feel like I don’t include him enough in conversations.  When I call Grandma, he sometimes answers her phone when she’s busy and I’ll make it a point to ask him how he is and what’s going on with him.  But mostly I feel like I make it a point to hang out with Grandma and Grandpa and I don’t do enough to include him in conversations because he’s so quiet and to himself.  I’ve had these thoughts for years now, never really obsessing over them, just kind of thinking it every once in a while.  I found out a few days ago that he was in ICU with a possible heart attack, pneumonia in one lung, congestive heart failure, and kidney failure.  It was a very strange feeling because at first, my number one concern was for Grandma.  I was worried about her blood pressure and her stress and how hard it must be for her to see her oldest son in that condition.  Then I felt guilty that that was my first worry.  And as the hours passed by that night, I wrote him a letter, went over old memories, and made my plans to get my butt to Midland to go make sure he knew I loved him in case he died, and to keep an eye on my grandma.  I kept myself busy with Makayla’s room and the house and the past few days have been filled with worry and stress.  Yesterday the doctors were talking about taking him off the ventilator but they said they weren’t positive he would be OK enough to keep it off.  Today, right after class, I called grandma to see what was going on.  She said she didn’t know yet and she would call me as soon as the doctors told her anything.

“Tell him I love him if he wakes up,” I said, forcing myself to not let my voice crack because I have no business being a cry baby when my own grandma has to see her son go through this.

  I piddle farted around with homework and lurked around the house until I couldn’t wait anymore and called her.  She said she had already tried to call me and it went straight to voicemail.  Blast.  That must have been when my phone died and I charged it.  She laughed at me and sounded chipper and I demanded to know what was going on.

“He’s off the ventilator and is doing much better.  It looks like he’s going to be OK.  I told him you loved him and he grinned and nodded his head.”

I forgot my rule of not being a cry baby and gasped, “hang on, I am becoming emotional.”

Tears sprang to my eyeballs and ran down my cheeks at such a rapid rate that I couldn’t hold them back so I brushed them away and took a few deep breaths.  Grandma was chuckling at me.

“Hang on,” I said, trying to get myself under control.  At the rate tears were flowing out of my eyeballs, I could have probably made a small bath.  With my super ninja self discipline, I managed to make the tears stop and steady my voice.

“Ok,” I’m good,” I told Grandma.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yup. You’d think I’d have been crying when I found out what had happened, not after finding out he’s OK.  That could be offensive.”

She told me he would be seeing a kidney doctor tomorrow and he’d be in the hospital for a while, recovering.

“Is he able to eat?” I asked, worried that he might be hungry.  She said the steroids they were giving him raised his blood sugar (he’s diabetic) and that he would eat tonight or tomorrow.  We talked about how sweet he has always been, how shy and quiet.  I told her I’d be in Midland tomorrow to inspect him for myself. 

“He’ll have his phone back soon; it’s such a long drive for you,” Grandma said.

“I know and I don’t mind.  If I was that sick I would be comforted by my family being there.  I have to let him know how much I love him while he’s in there.”

“I know,” she said.

  We talked a little more and I told her I loved her a couple of extra times just because Uncle Shonni being in the hospital has kind of scared me about stuff.  Grandma let me know Uncle Shonni was watching football and because of that he was in a “world of glory” or something like that.  I told her I’d bring him some football magazines to look at tomorrow and she said he liked basketball magazines too.  We hung up and I felt the weight of extreme worry and stress lift up a little and I am very, very happy that my uncle is going to be OK.  I would also like to thank all of the doctors, nurses, and other medical staff who used their time and education to help my uncle.  I am very thankful to them and appreciate so much what they do.