Fist Bump
This past Friday, Patrice Boudreaux called and said she was in need of a prayer warrior. One with a specific set of qualifications, because there may be a brain injury involved. Just before, I saw her request for prayer on Facebook, to support her cousin who was in ICU in Nashville, TN. It said she was counting on our collective prayers and positive energy to uplift her cousin and their entire family during this challenging time.
More than a hundred people acknowledged the post, and it got over 70 prayerful replies. In that moment, I checked my iPhone's calendar and saw a clear Saturday before posting:
"We express gratitude in advance for the angels who line his path, and lead the way towards his best and highest good. Excellent health outcomes are his now! He is held in the arms of the divine and we are grateful to cradle him (and his family) lovingly in our prayers. Let's see if we can align our calendars to go support your family in Nashville."
In my heart of hearts, I agreed that whatever landed her cousin in a coma in the ICU could possibly involve a brain injury. I wanted to support her family during this delicate time in any way I could. At 4 AM, Patrice sent a text: "I think I might take you up on that trip to Nashville. What does your Saturday look like?" When I woke up, the answer "yes" came out of my mouth before I was 100% certain that I was free. It is rare when I do not have plans on a Saturday, but it just so happened that I had none the next day.
After getting her oil changed and her tires checked, Patrice picked me up after 4 PM later that day. We departed for the 5 hour drive, in the rain, on I-40 to Vanderbilt University Hospital in Nashville, TN. I learned her cousin was admitted after being struck by a vehicle while testing his son's new motorized bike. It was supposed to be a quick test, so he decided, as many in that situation would, that no helmet was needed. We both now know how our lives can change in an instant.
This would become one of my favorite road trips ever. We came up with a mantra for our ride. We shouted to anyone who was within earshot (but it was usually just for us) "Girls Trip!" This was always followed by a fist bump. We got caught up on one of our favorite podcasts, "Hammered: A Story of an Insatiable Spirit". Side note: this is a great program by our friend Jill Haynie, I highly recommend you give it a listen!
Deep connected female friendships are quite rare. At the beginning of our adventure, Patrice asked me who my best friend was. After a brief pause, I acknowledged that it may be her. We nodded in an unspoken agreement, and then shouted "Girls Trip."
We both packed road snacks, and I made sure to arrange them between our front seats to be easily accessed while driving. I packed a cooler with protein shakes, zero-sugar sodas, cheese sticks, cashew nuts, and two bags of travel-sized chips. Patrice provided driving fuel too, including many bags of Nutty Buddies, chocolate wafer cookies, fruit gummies, and trail mix with M&M. We nearly finished them all and may have picked up a few more nibbles at Buckee's along the way, where we filled her gas tank and made a quick pit stop.
Before we departed, I thought I was a pretty laid back passenger. Until I saw a hairline crack in her windshield, which may have reminded me of the last cracked windshield I saw. As a therapist, she looked me deeply in the eyes and asked with great sincerity if I was okay? I knew I was because Patrice was an excellent driver, who confidently handled the single lane of I-40 traffic that stretched through the mountainous pass entering Tennessee, in the rain.
With 30 minutes left on the drive, Patrice suggested we start looking for a hotel. I said it was a better idea to get closer to our destination to cut down on tomorrow's drivetime. About 15 minutes later we discovered how good her original suggestion was. Who knew that Nashville would be bumping this particular Friday night?
We found ourselves near the Nashville International Airport exit. After calling 10 hotels in the area, we learned that there were several competitions including ultimate frisbee, dance, cheerleading, not to mention the many flights had been cancelled. Literally every hotel we called was completely full. Until one agent found a room available at their sister property, so he took my credit card info to secure this last room.
When we arrived a few minutes later, we pushed through crowds of teenage athletes in the loud lobby, to the front desk clerk. "We just reserved the last room here," I exclaimed when I reached the desk. "My name is Angela Leigh Tucker." He looked down at the screen, back to my eyes and then down to the screen again. "We are totally sold out maim. You did not book a room here, I am sorry." I made sure to confirm that I was not charged.
Back on the road. Another agent found an available room at another sister property and I made her stay on the line as we checked into the Comfort Inn. This lobby was even louder than the last one. The front desk clerk appeared to be the only sitter on duty, and looked exhausted. Through blurry eyes, he slid our key cards across his desk. I thanked him sincerely and reminded him that he is doing the best he could. It was almost 10 PM at this point.
"Girls trip!" Fist bump. We crashed quickly.
Early the next morning, I noticed the sun creeping in around the edges of an unclosed blackout blind, checked my phone and saw it was 8 AM. I sat up, tossed my blankets aside and began to deliver a tune to the bed next to mine. "Rise and shine and gi.." I didn't finish the word before the slumbering Patrice made a "hush" gesture with her arms. She shook her head no, eyes still closed. So I stopped my tune and waited for a half hour before I picked up a new morning anthem. "Oh what a beautiful morning. Oh what a beautiful day..."
This seemed to be more agreeable. She climbed into the shower and sang her own morning tune U2's "Beautiful Day". However, we were both acutely aware that we did not know what this day would look like. Patrice planned to surprise her family, so she called her Aunt Kathy (who she lovingly refers to as Aunt Khaki) and told her that she had a spiritual friend in the area who would like to come pray with the family. Kathy responded that it was a nice gesture but that today was not really a good day. That’s when Patrice responded “I am with her.” Her aunt was shocked, and hopefully pleasantly surprised.
"Girls trip!" Fist bump.
We made our way to Vanderbilt Medical Center and Kathy met us in the visitors lobby to guide us through the massive hospital that required two separate elevators. She explained the hospital had a policy of only allowing two visitors at a time. Johnny (who she lovingly calls Uncle Honey) met us outside of the ICU security door. Kathy spoke with the desk nurse and handed Patrice one visitor badge.
She and I entered the room to find her cousin in the hospital bed, who was clearly experiencing discomfort, so Patrice leaned over him and began to softly stroke his forehead. His eyes remained closed as she calmly explained where he was, described what was on his body, like the boots on his feet to help with blood flow, and told him he was safe. She told him everyone there was trying to help him. The nurse who checked his vitals said it was the calmest she had seen him so far. Patrice asked the nurse's name and described to him how cute she was.
I stood back from the bed and imagined myself where he lay. Almost 18 years prior, I was also in an induced coma, while doctors waited for the swelling on my own brain to subside. I told Patrice she was good at this, and she replied that she had lots of practice. She is the widow of Kat Williams, her wife who spent the end of her life in rooms like this one. Patrice found a washcloth and wiped his face. As she mentioned his young children's names, she wiped away tears from his still closed eyes.
While Patrice and her aunt spent time at Daniel's side, I got a chance to get to know Uncle Honey. I quickly learned why this nickname was such a good fit. Patrice had introduced me as her friend with a brain injury, and I shared more of my story. That's when he opened up that he also has a TBI. Johnny was the passenger who survived a work accident, where the unbuckled driver was killed. "We are both miracles," I replied. I brought him a copy of the latest Chicken Soup for the Soul book that contained a story about my injury.
Kathy treated us to lunch, then we returned and the nurse allowed all four of us to enter together. We presented an unsliced carrot cake that my husband got me for my birthday, and retrieved the small plates and forks that Augi carefully packed for us. They quietly sang me happy birthday and I cut a few extra slices for anyone on the staff who'd like one.
After spending a few hours in Nashville, which was a first visit for Patrice, we decided to make the 5 hour drive home. Hugs were exchanged before we left, and Johnny pulled me aside to say that our visit really lifted his spirits.
"Girls trip!" Fist bump.
Reflecting on this experience, I realized that I have felt called to visit friends who are in the hospital whenever I learn someone is there. I noticed how comfortable I feel in this setting and how I walk with confidence even when others approach timidly. I find that I am visiting hospitals more often than I used to, and I have no idea what my visits mean to these folks. I do not know how this will impact my life in the future, but in the present, I feel guided to say "Yes" to these visits whenever I can.
Patrice and I celebrated my birthday at Vanderbilt University Hospital