I married a black American woman
three years ago.
We live in a big house,
with three of her brothers,
one cousin,
and one of her uncles,
Uncle Randall.
We took him to the ER,
about twelve hours ago,
Saturday afternoon.
More about Randall,
his illness,
and my great new family,
below the divider doodle:
Randall was born in 1952,
only three years earlier than me.
He was incredibly strong and athletic,
in his younger years.
He also used alcohol and drugs constantly,
in his younger years.
He's been clean and sober for the last twelve years.
He lives in the bedroom
that used to be the garage of the big house.
He's had too many girlfriends
over the years
who caused him only trouble.
So he's single.
He's what my wife, Tonia calls
"churchy."
My wife's brother, Terrell,
says Randall is married to Jesus.
He's a bit of a hoarder,
so his room is messy,
big piles of black trash bags,
and only Randall knows
which bags contain clean clothes,
and which ones are filled with clothes that need to be laundered.
Because of that clutter,
piles of black trash bags,
it was all the more distressing,
in the last few days,
when we began to notice that Randall,
normally out and around,
going to church,
driving his old Mercury four door car
sometimes to the park
to relax and feed the birds,
we began to notice that Randall
was very ill.
He could barely get out of bed.
He developed diarrhea.
He was spitting up brown mucus,
maybe from an abcessed tooth.
He gave me cash,
and asked me to buy him
Pedialyte,
and Ensure,
and Perrier sparkling water.
For a few days,
all he could keep down
was the Perrier.
I told him,
if you can't drink the Pedialyte,
we'll take you to the hospital,
and they'll put it in your veins.
(Pedialyte and normal saline IV fluids
are about the same,
as far as I know.)
He kept resisting,
and we did just that.
He's in the hospital,
the IV in his arm.
The wonderful thing
is the way my new family
came together,
to help Uncle Randall,
in spite of him telling us
he didn't want to go to the hospital.
One of our cousins
is a nice man named Emmanuel;
he's the pastor of the local church,
Randall's church!
He came over to help persuade Randall,
even though his own daughter
was in another hospital,
because her water broke,
and she was about to deliver his grandchild!
Also,
my wife's Aunt Oletha,
Randall's sister,
is a Kansas State Senator.
She was here,
encouraging us,
organizing things,
giving advice.
A State Senator.
This is a great family.
Emmanuel and Terrell
grabbed Randall,
one in front,
the other behind him,
and walked him like a puppet,
out to the car,
my 2003 Mazda Tribute SUV.
I cried tears of joy.
Terrell took Randall to the hospital
in my SUV.
I rode with our State Senator.
We don't yet know
exactly what Randall needs
to get healthy and come home.
But I felt some of you
would feel good reading
about some success,
in the constant struggle many of us have,
in helping each other.
I want you to visualize the scene at our house yesterday:
Reverend Emmanuel,
Terrell,
Isaac,
big Mike,
Tonia,
myself,
and Kansas State Senator Oletha,
all helping Uncle Randall,
working to save his life,
so he can live a few more years,
maybe another decade or two,
rather than dying in a bed
pooled with vomit and shit,
alone in his room.
Value your family.
Your family can save your life,
if you give them a chance.
This is one of the reasons
I married Tonia:
if I become that ill,
Tonia will make sure
I get the care I need.
And I wont' have to shout,
I won't need to call anyone.
Tonia will be right here beside me.
Thanks for reading.
4:07 AM PT: Feels good to get on the rec list. Thanks for rallying around Uncle Randall.