Here’s a cool story. Dad was very sentimental as you will see. It’s a story about family, love, and the faith dad so clearly celebrated.
I hope you enjoy this 8th installment of Don Tschirhart’s book, “It’s a Wonderful World”.
Thanks for reading,
David Tschirhart
Mom Saves Daughter
By Don Tschirhart
I remember Shannon cuddling in the arms of her daddy watching TV cartoons on a Sunday afternoon. A cute little three-year-old, her mother always clothed her in frilly bright dresses.
“She’s a girl, my girl,” her mom, Debbie, always said.
That was 15 years ago. Recently her mom sat cuddling her beautiful 18-year-old daughter in a hospital bed where Shannon was recovering from an operation in which she received a new kidney.
The donor? Her mom, naturally. Shannon’s dad, our son, Kevin, couldn’t be there to hold her like he once did. He died during an operation February 28, 1997.
Both Debbie and Shannon had been apprehensive ever since it was decided to have the twin operation. Kevin died as he was coming out of the anesthesia following a throat operation. Both were fearful of being put to sleep never to awaken.
At Shannon’s graduation from East Detroit High School just a week before, the operation was not far from my mind . . . and I’m sure her mind, too.
If anything can age grandparents, it is waiting hours for a loved one’s operation to be completed.
I could hardly sit still in the waiting room of Children’s Hospital of Michigan near downtown Detroit.
Earlier, my wife Margie and I were in the pre-op room with the surgeons, the anesthesiologists and nurses as the two women were given Valium shots to relax them and were hooked up to bagged solutions hanging over their heads.
A kiss, a smile, a prayer and the two were off to their separate operating rooms for the kidney exchange and we to the family waiting room.
Waiting rooms can be very depressing. Expressionless loved ones talk quietly. Children play with toys. Each telephone ring means heads popping up, looking at the receptionist to see if the call is for them. Pagers are given to those who want to go to the cafeteria
It was about three hours, but it seemed like days, before the phone rang and our name was called. The nurse said, “All’s well. Debbie is fine. The kidney was removed. It’s now being placed into Shannon.”
One down, one to go.
A half hour went by. The phone rang. Other patients’ family members received calls. They smiled and filed out to visit their ailing loved ones.
Collectively, smiles turned to big grins as we hugged in the waiting room and exchanged high-fives.
I could think of nothing more than to sit down with my head in my hands and thank God for the gift of life for my two girls, Debbie and Shannon.
I’m not sure Debbie will remember that first visit. Groggy, in pain despite medication, she smiled when I said, “Shannon’s fine, honey. Shannon is just fine.”
Then there was a trip to the intensive care unit. Shannon had been taken there because her operation was more precarious.
Groggy, in pain despite medication, she could still give me a smile. I shed a tear as I brushed her hair back from her forehead and said, “Sweetheart, you made it. You did good. I knew you would ‘cause I talked with your daddy and he told me everything would be OK.”
Through clinched teeth she said, “Me too, grampa.”
The next day was a reminder of how the human body can bounce back after an assault upon it.
Both Shannon and Debbie were hurting, but the smiles were back on their faces and their voices were strong. They talked about going home.
I told Shannon that all our friends and relatives were praying for their recovery.
She looked at me, smiled and said, “Thank God for me, grampa.”
My beard was wet with tears as I turned toward the door and said, “I’ll do just that, honey.”
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