Tags
coming home, health, kids, motherhood, parent fears, parental fears, poetry, sick kids, triumph. poetry, wellness
It happened
in 3 days time.
Day 1 –
Life went from our own unique type of “normal”
to chaos.
Life with no restrictions suddenly became
restricted.
By rules and wires, monitors and tubes
By prognosis and new limitations.
Day 2 –
There was sleep. My own bed.
And that awful voice inside my head
filling me with guilt about going home and not spending the night there by his bedside.
There was a shower. Comfy clothes.
And then the rushing, frantic rush-hour commute to race across town
Parking garage nightmares of spiraling climbs and bad parking jobs
Hoping I could be there before he woke up.
More waiting.
More waiting.
The waiting…
for something to change
for something to be done
for anything other than this odd status-quo.
Day 3 –
There was rejoicing
I never thought happiness could be found coming from a urine sample
There was change.
Commotion, prompting, encouragement
Rising up out of bed on his own.
Walking outside of his room for the first time
His own miracle on the 3rd day.
New orders, new restrictions
Challenges that had to be met before release.
And there was relief
He was home by supper time.
My 3 days
have turned into 5
as I play mother, nurse, employee, maid
as I try to give attention to all who are asking
And the questions – how they all ask
I have a script in my head
Rehearsed from repeating his story
Edited down to a 3 minutes version so all who ask can know.
Just a few days ago
I sat looking out of large glass windows
Thinking about the kids who are sicker than my own
Who have it so much worse.
I think now on how lucky we are to be home.
Our “normal” will evolve and adapt
to accept and deal with the chaos that may follow.
The follow-ups and tests, more revolving doors and doctors
But there will be normal for us someday
Our own new special kind of normal.
And for that I am thankful.
So very, very thankful.
Sincerely, Lori 