Crisis Management

When I was 15, just a few months before the state of Idaho made an incredibly poor decision by granting me a driver’s license, I was home alone with my younger brother while our mom was at work. He was in his room working one mad scientist project or another and I was upstairs. All was fine until I heard him scream my name. We both went running towards the other and met in the middle, him clutching his hand and blood spurting everywhere in rhythmic pumps. Apparently Dr. Frankenstein had decided to cut apart an old pair of shoes with a box knife and in the process sliced completely through the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. I calmed him down, gave him a towel to wrap/put pressure on the wound and called my grandmother to come take us to the doctor. I called our doctor’s office and told them what had happened, advising them we were on the way. Then I sat with my brother and spoke to him quietly about what would happen and when our Gram arrived I held his other hand for the car ride in. We arrived at the doctor’s office and my mom showed up – Gram must’ve called her, because I hadn’t – and the adults took over.

There are three emotions I remember most clearly about that day: my mom being upset with me for not calling her, my confusion at this because I‘d known what to do and had it under control and my chest-swelling pride when I overheard the nurse tell my mom how calm and collected I had been throughout.

So began my career in crisis management. At 15, I was just doing what came instinctually – there was no Box Knife 101 class at my high school – and it took me maybe a decade to realize that people react very differently in times of high stress. Fear can be paralyzing. Making a game plan on the fly is not a universal skill. And while it’s certainly possible to teach others how to build these skills, doing so generally requires a bonefide emergency and modeling calm control by example. I can tell you from experience that last part really sucks.

Two days ago, insomniac me went to bed at 3am and about 15 minutes later my wife woke up wirh chest pains and shortness of breath. Her stubborn behind did not wake me up (a subject we will definitely revisit later, Mrs. B…) but when I got up at 6am I could clearly see something was wrong. Miss Thang wanted to just lay in bed and wait and I wanted to call an ambulance, so we compromised by calling an ambulance. I packed a bag and prepared for a day in the ER with two kids under 2 and away we went.

She’s still in the hospital and I’m doing my best to keep all the plates spinning without falling. Five kids can be challenging for the stout-hearted, so I’m not about to tromp them all into a cardiac unit and kill someone’s grandpa. The babies need regular naps and the bigs need routine. Melissa needs me there with her and Bean needs calm reassurance that she’s not going to lose another parent. I need more hours in the day. Did I mention that I’m also in the midst of pageant production at the church?

We have an incredible church family who never fails to knock my socks off with their kindness and willingness to help. Our besties came and watched the babies so we could manage pageant rehearsal Thursday night. Two dear friends hung out with Bean while the other kids slept last night so I could spend a few hours with Melissa. Today I’ve got two different sets of people lined up for a morning and an afternoon visit and hopefully I can speak to the actual cardiologist who I’ve missed on every other trip. I do not take these gifts lightly, truly I don’t. I am unutterably grateful to be able to have time with my wife and soothe her raw nerves, make sure she eats, help her get cleaned up and comfy. Even if she doesn’t say so, I know she is scared to bits and the love and generosity of our village makes it possible for me to help her. I’m beyond thankful.

What I also am is exhausted.

Maybe it would be easier if we had less children, but there’s really no time to fall apart. Bean was in full-blown panic attacks yesterday, so she stayed home from school while the boys went. I could feel her observant eyes on me all day, using me as her emotional barometer. I spent a few hours at the hospital in the morning while the babies napped and then ran errands. Got the boys from school and added another two sets of eyes looking for calm. Made dinner, fed and got the kids to bed and then jammed back to the hospital when our friends arrived. I got home from the hospital around 10-something PM and then had to do laundry, dishes and various other minutiae. I crawled into bed just before midnight, but Bean was asleep in there so it was not the time to cry or freak out. And then Noodle woke up at 2am with a stuffy nose and headache and couldn’t go back to sleep, sooooo. Ye gads, I could sleep for a week. You don’t need a turban to predict copious amounts of caffeine in my future today.

If you have someone in your life who can stay calm in crisis, do me a favor. Give them a hug and then lock them in a room alone for ten minutes. Let them freak out. Let them shake and cry. Let them not need to comfort anyone else and leave them alone while they fall apart. We don’t know how to go to pieces if you’re watching – it’s just not what we do. So close the door, turn on the TV and pretend you can’t hear them letting loose. And when they emerge, get them some damn coffee.