I like hearing about fan experiences - the where were you when kind of thing. So, I thought I would start a little thread if anyone had any memories to share. I know Matt (PurpleOut) wrote a great recap of his weekend in Brooklyn not long after it happened, but anything you would like to share, please do.
This week two years ago was a hard one for me. My youngest daughter had just been born two weeks prior, and complementing all the purple around town, she was yellow. Like many newborns, she had jaundice, but unlike many, she couldn't get rid of it. She had to remain hospitalized for almost all of her first three weeks spending endless hours under these intense blue lights that help break down the bilirubin in your blood stream. Most kids take a couple days to get their liver and kidneys in sync and get to a normal color, Olivet just stayed yellow, and the doctors didn't have any idea why.
(In a hospital dressed in purple for the last home game of the year against HBU)
Because I work in a two man shop, my health insurance is Obamacare. When the doctors were perplexed about what was happening and afraid that without further treatment that the baby could suffer organ damage, they said we had to go to a NICU (Neo-natal ICU). However, the only one in the state that would take my insurance was in San Antonio. Thankfully, my sister-in-law lives there with her family, so we had a place to stay. The day the SLC tourney kicked off for Walkup's final appearance, my wife was headed with Olivet on the 5 hour trip to the hospital.
About two hours in, I receive a call from my doctor that a blood test came back that our daughter has Group B strep - a fairly common disease (especially in hospitals) - but deadly for newborns. They want to life-flight Olivet to Houston for immediate treatment. I'm at home needing to work to help pay off all these bills; my wife is in the no-man's land near Bryan on her way to San Antonio. In the end, the doctor said instead of turning around, she should drive straight to the NICU but she shouldn't let the baby fall asleep and become unresponsive. Imagine driving for three hours with a two week old faced where you can't see them and hoping they don't fall asleep.
Somehow, my wife survived the stress of the trip and made it to the hospital. In an attempt to make sure she had the best chance of surviving, the NICU docs pumped our little girl with antibiotics so strong that there was a decent shot that she would have permanent hearing loss if she made it. I immediately left my other kids with family and rushed to San Antonio. The next day as was getting used to a third week of hospital life but in a new location, the Jacks went on to cruise through their SLC Finals match. In the isolation room that my daughter was kept in, I kept some weary eyes open as I watched the game on phone - excited that we might have a chance to do some damage again.
The next few days were honestly a blur of tests and shots and doctors and endless questions and much prayer. I spent most of my free time reading everything I could about our matchup with WVU and observing LJF posts. The excitement of what SFA was doing mixed with the terrible fear over the unreality of our family's situation was an odd juxtaposition, but one that oddly tinged all the stress with a silver lining of hope.
In the end (and it took way too long to find out), the blood test that showed the Group B Strep was a contamination mistake. My daughter never had the disease. In fact, about two weeks too late, her body started equalizing the bilirubin just fine, and she started to fade from a mustard color to a my family's natural ghost-like white. The doctors never found an explanation. She just got better. She still had to stay a week to make sure there wasn't some strange relapse, but we felt better every new day.
Thursday night, my wife and I were going to stay at her sister's house for the first time overnight, but first, there was a game. I found a Wingstop right beside the hospital that was supposed to air the game; my wife found the nail salon next door. I got the very busy Wingstop employees to change the channel, but each time the manager would go back, he would get the wrong channel. After three attempts, I left and joined my wife at the salon. There the Vietnamese ladies were nice enough for me to turn their one TV onto the game. I sat in the massage chair and scared the lady scrubbing my wife's feet when Meech hit the big three at the end of the first half. Sometimes you can't hold in your excitement.
At halftime, we raced back to my in-laws place, and I settled in for one of the most stress breaking hours of my life. Things were getting right with the world. The next day, I would get to pick my daughter up from her last day in the hospital. SFA had not only beat the #3 seed, they were the better team all night. I was going to get a full night of sleep. I was on cloud nine. I wasn't as viscerally pumped as when Des drained that free throw to seal the 4 point play, but I felt like the sun was shining again.
The only problem left was Notre Dame. I had to get back to Nacogdoches to take care of my other kids. The only way I could do it was to be driving through most of the game. Luckily at the time my car had Sirius radio that would broadcast the game. I was probably not the safest driver as I sped home listening to the phenomenal play of Walkup and Co. I just had to get home and see the end on TV. As I'm racing around the loop to my house, we're up by a couple of points. I jump out of the car, run in, and get the TV on. It doesn't work. Something happened to my router while I was gone, and it needs to be reset. I miss the end of the game. I finally get it on to see we've lost and watch the dreaded...well you know the rest.
Anyway, this week two years ago was an unforgettable one for many reasons. Prayers of a fan and prayers of a father were both answered that week. This week my family (with a completely healthy two year old) is once again headed to San Antonio, but this time for some much needed relaxation. I'm not so superstitious (I think) that I'll go back to the nail salon, but I will be watching in the same location where I was when we won. However, this time if we make it to the Round of 32, I'll be in Dallas.
Thanks to anyone that read this novel. Again, I love to hear your stories (even if they aren't book long). Axe 'em Jacks!
This week two years ago was a hard one for me. My youngest daughter had just been born two weeks prior, and complementing all the purple around town, she was yellow. Like many newborns, she had jaundice, but unlike many, she couldn't get rid of it. She had to remain hospitalized for almost all of her first three weeks spending endless hours under these intense blue lights that help break down the bilirubin in your blood stream. Most kids take a couple days to get their liver and kidneys in sync and get to a normal color, Olivet just stayed yellow, and the doctors didn't have any idea why.
(In a hospital dressed in purple for the last home game of the year against HBU)
Because I work in a two man shop, my health insurance is Obamacare. When the doctors were perplexed about what was happening and afraid that without further treatment that the baby could suffer organ damage, they said we had to go to a NICU (Neo-natal ICU). However, the only one in the state that would take my insurance was in San Antonio. Thankfully, my sister-in-law lives there with her family, so we had a place to stay. The day the SLC tourney kicked off for Walkup's final appearance, my wife was headed with Olivet on the 5 hour trip to the hospital.
About two hours in, I receive a call from my doctor that a blood test came back that our daughter has Group B strep - a fairly common disease (especially in hospitals) - but deadly for newborns. They want to life-flight Olivet to Houston for immediate treatment. I'm at home needing to work to help pay off all these bills; my wife is in the no-man's land near Bryan on her way to San Antonio. In the end, the doctor said instead of turning around, she should drive straight to the NICU but she shouldn't let the baby fall asleep and become unresponsive. Imagine driving for three hours with a two week old faced where you can't see them and hoping they don't fall asleep.
Somehow, my wife survived the stress of the trip and made it to the hospital. In an attempt to make sure she had the best chance of surviving, the NICU docs pumped our little girl with antibiotics so strong that there was a decent shot that she would have permanent hearing loss if she made it. I immediately left my other kids with family and rushed to San Antonio. The next day as was getting used to a third week of hospital life but in a new location, the Jacks went on to cruise through their SLC Finals match. In the isolation room that my daughter was kept in, I kept some weary eyes open as I watched the game on phone - excited that we might have a chance to do some damage again.
The next few days were honestly a blur of tests and shots and doctors and endless questions and much prayer. I spent most of my free time reading everything I could about our matchup with WVU and observing LJF posts. The excitement of what SFA was doing mixed with the terrible fear over the unreality of our family's situation was an odd juxtaposition, but one that oddly tinged all the stress with a silver lining of hope.
In the end (and it took way too long to find out), the blood test that showed the Group B Strep was a contamination mistake. My daughter never had the disease. In fact, about two weeks too late, her body started equalizing the bilirubin just fine, and she started to fade from a mustard color to a my family's natural ghost-like white. The doctors never found an explanation. She just got better. She still had to stay a week to make sure there wasn't some strange relapse, but we felt better every new day.
Thursday night, my wife and I were going to stay at her sister's house for the first time overnight, but first, there was a game. I found a Wingstop right beside the hospital that was supposed to air the game; my wife found the nail salon next door. I got the very busy Wingstop employees to change the channel, but each time the manager would go back, he would get the wrong channel. After three attempts, I left and joined my wife at the salon. There the Vietnamese ladies were nice enough for me to turn their one TV onto the game. I sat in the massage chair and scared the lady scrubbing my wife's feet when Meech hit the big three at the end of the first half. Sometimes you can't hold in your excitement.
At halftime, we raced back to my in-laws place, and I settled in for one of the most stress breaking hours of my life. Things were getting right with the world. The next day, I would get to pick my daughter up from her last day in the hospital. SFA had not only beat the #3 seed, they were the better team all night. I was going to get a full night of sleep. I was on cloud nine. I wasn't as viscerally pumped as when Des drained that free throw to seal the 4 point play, but I felt like the sun was shining again.
The only problem left was Notre Dame. I had to get back to Nacogdoches to take care of my other kids. The only way I could do it was to be driving through most of the game. Luckily at the time my car had Sirius radio that would broadcast the game. I was probably not the safest driver as I sped home listening to the phenomenal play of Walkup and Co. I just had to get home and see the end on TV. As I'm racing around the loop to my house, we're up by a couple of points. I jump out of the car, run in, and get the TV on. It doesn't work. Something happened to my router while I was gone, and it needs to be reset. I miss the end of the game. I finally get it on to see we've lost and watch the dreaded...well you know the rest.
Anyway, this week two years ago was an unforgettable one for many reasons. Prayers of a fan and prayers of a father were both answered that week. This week my family (with a completely healthy two year old) is once again headed to San Antonio, but this time for some much needed relaxation. I'm not so superstitious (I think) that I'll go back to the nail salon, but I will be watching in the same location where I was when we won. However, this time if we make it to the Round of 32, I'll be in Dallas.
Thanks to anyone that read this novel. Again, I love to hear your stories (even if they aren't book long). Axe 'em Jacks!
Ryan
Kinnaird Guitars
Kinnaird Guitars
