Last night, I had gone to the CICU waiting lounge to get a cheap cup of Milo. (If you hang around enough in a hospital you start to know where to get what.) There were almost 30 people there, rare for CICU as the maximum is 2 visitors at a time. I recognized some to be the family of the boy who was next to Vera when she was there. The boy who had fractured his skull and had brain surgery. The men in the family were huddled in a circle. Among them was the neurosurgeon. The air was thick with tension. Without hearing a word, I knew what the decision they had to make was.
This morning, I went to get my Milo again. The waiting room was empty.
Two things struck me:
How enormous the devastation must have been for the family. To have absolutely no warning and no time to absorb the news must have made it tremendously harder to bear.
Yet, how seemingly small the event was in the larger scheme of things. The waiting lounge was back to the usual quiet disquiet. I thought to myself, how many must have come and gone through these doors. In and out. Ebb and flow. Joy and sorrow. In strict keeping with the laws of nature.
6 comments:
Your writing is beautiful and also heart wrenching. I am sorry you had to experience that in the waiting room, but of course, it brings us back to the reality...
As with Annabel we rejoice and celebrate 4 yrs., then go to the mailbox and read our new SOFT newsletter and the reminder and reality is there...somehow the 3 losses struck me more than the ones that are still here surviving...
Praying for Vera and progress!
I experienced that same feeling too, when Zoe was in the CICU/SDU. A boy in the next room died while she was there. I'll never forget the keening cries of his mother.
Thank you for the tender reminder of how very precious life is. Prayers for Vera and the family who just lost a loved little one.
Kathy
Agreed. You do document everything so beautifully. Thanks for letting us follow your journey.
I am back just checking in on Vera. I hope that all is ok and she is progressing as expected.
I hope you are holding up, May. I know how it wears you down with sorrow to be around so much loss, and pray you will not have to go through the same. When we were a month in the PICU with Mallorie a year ago, there was one week when 4 or 5 families who where there with us, day and night (we all slept in the waiting room, if our children seemed "critical"), who lost babies. It got so I was avoiding eye contact with everyone, because I couldn't stand to witness or share anymore pain like that.
I know it is making your time there even harder. I hope Vera is close to being able to return home with you, safe and healthy!
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