Kristin Williams Balla

I hate missing Family Dinner. The only time I miss it is when I am out-of-town on business. Unfortunately, Attila and I both missed it this week.

Back in April when Attila was battling viral pneumonia (for his life!) a PICC (Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter) line was inserted into his upper right arm. The purpose of this was to deliver antibiotics to his system in the least invasive/most effective way.  The procedure inadvertently created a blood clot. It happens. What are you gonna do?

Standard treatment for this condition is the blood-thinner Coumadin, which Attila has been taking ever since. But Coumadin is like a touchy teenager. It reacts to everything – a change in food or medication can produce unpredictable and potentially dangerous results.

The Coumadin levels must be monitored on a regular basis using a blood test called a PT/INR (Prothrombin time/International Normalized Ratio).  This test evaluates the ability of the blood to clot properly. A person who is not on Coumadin should have a level of 1. A person on Coumadin should maintain a level between 2.0 and 3.0.

Attila had his weekly blood test on Tuesday morning. Several hours later our doctor’s office left an urgent message on our home phone – which I did not listen to until 9:00pm that night.

I called them Wednesday morning and could not reach a human being so I left a message for them to call me at work. But then I left work to take Attila to his appointment with the Physiatrist (to address his continuing ankle pain – but that is a totally different story!).

By the time I heard the message, it was 5:15 pm. Attila was in the kitchen frying up some hamburger for tacos, and the salad fixins were sitting on the counter ready to be sliced and diced. Which apparently could have been very, very bad - if Attila sliced and diced more than the veggies!

I called the doctor’s office. Everyone there seems to know who Attila is – probably because he has the thickest file of any patient. At a recent appointment one of the nurses suggested that it might be time to add wheels.  

Bev was unnervingly thrilled that I had finally made contact. She told me that Attila’s Coumadin level was 7.5 and he needed to get to the ER – STAT! I don’t react to these things like a normal person. I responded with ”what is the worst that could happen?” Okay, I am really serious about my Family Dinner.

I could see Bev’s appalled expression, and I don’t even have a web cam. She replied, “If he cuts himself he… he… (voice dropping to a whisper) could bleed to death!” The intensely serious tone amused me. Oh, the drama! But I have to admit that she was genuinely concerned. Maybe I would be too, IF I wasn’t married to a Superhero with a Houdiniesque ability to escape death on a freakishly regular basis.

Erring on the side of caution, I said “Okay, fine. We’ll go right now.”  The hamburger was only half-cooked but we did remember to turn off the stove before heading to Paoli for the third time that day.

I mentioned to Attila that it was possible the hospital would want to admit him overnight. Lackadaisically he responded, ”Ahhhh, how exciting.”

I was tired. I was silly. My mind wanders down strange paths in crisis mode. To be honest, it wanders down strange paths in ANY mode. 

“You know, we have made this trip to the ER so many times that I think it is time for an ER Trip theme song.” And without missing a beat Attila suggested “99 trips to the ER” to the tune of “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.”

I tried to reach several of the kids and connected only with voice mail.  Brent was the first to return my call. I said, “You are headed to Family Dinner, right? I don’t want you to get to the house and think Dad and I were Raptured before you. We are on our way to the ER. No biggie, but Dad’s Coumadin levels are too high. Please finish making the tacos and enjoy Family Dinner. We’ll get back as soon as we can.”

He took it in stride. The definition of “crisis” in our family does not remotely resemble most others. Attila and I don’t waste energy on sweating the small stuff and our kids tend to take their cues from us.

Attila was the lone patient in the ER waiting room. That was a first for us. Even still, it  took an eternity to get back to a room. We held hands and giggled over nothing. Declan made phone contact. Family Dinner was in process. Life goes on!

A nurse drew blood for another PT/INR. I crawled into the narrow bed beside Attila. We had to wait an hour for the results. Certain body parts were precariously perched at best, but my adrenaline was waning and I was overcome with exhaustion. I just needed to ”rest my eyes” while Attila watched the Evening news. 

The results came back at 9.1. How did his level go up when he had not even taken his Coumadin that day? Attila was given a Vitamin K pill and discharged. Really? Is that it? We could have done that with a quick run to Wal-Mart! 

Driving home, the a/c was too cold, even set at the lowest level. So I did something I rarely do. I opened the windows and rolled back the sky roof and let the wind have its way with us. Attila was amused by the loose strands of my hair standing on end as they whipped into the vortex of the open roof.

This was liberating! This was nostalgia-producing! Momentarily I wondered why I don’t do this more often, but then I remembered that, oh yeah, I am allergic to trees, grass, flowers, weeds, pollen, you-name-it, and there are unpleasant consequences to breathing real air.

But maybe I should do it once in a while - just to remember the way it feels to fly free on a summer night with the wind on my face. Every so often I really need to re-visit that time in my life when I felt the joy of limitless hope and possibility bursting in my heart – way back before I knew that my heart would break a thousand times before I went home to my Father.

We arrived home at 8:30 pm. The smell of tacos lingered and the dishwasher was turned on, swishing in a way that I find oddly comforting. The kitchen was clean and the food had been put away.

We have remarkable kids. I missed not seeing them in person. But “date night” with Attila could have been worse. Way, way worse. And, after all, we got to feel the wind in our hair on a perfect summer night.