The colors of my life today, are not a Monet Painting. They are more Chiaroscuro with startling slashes of black and grey. Today, a 3-2-1 cake will not do.....it has been a Co-cola and Chocolate kind of day. I had just gotten back from taking Baby Girl to school....Babiest Girl was home with Strep Throat and ready to be awakened for her second dose of antibiotic. Before I could make it upstairs, I heard a sickening thud with a couple of secondary bounces. I threw the English Muffin I was getting ready to toast, and ran to the stairs, calling for Babiest Girl. She had fainted, and was locked in the bathroom. It was with great difficulty that I was able to get her to unlock the door - when I opened it, she was slouched on the floor, disoriented and only partially responsive - burning up, and soaked with sweat. I screamed to John to come...the thermometer showed that she had a fever, but not a high one. She was the color of putty, her lips were white, and she was having difficulty breathing. A tense trip to the ER followed, where she spent the day enjoying the hospitality of the good folks that serve our town. Blood tests, Cat scans and bags of IV fluid followed. Tonight she is home, but her blood pressure remains scary low. The diagnosis is dehydration coupled with the Strep - making for one sick cookie...tomorrow we will follow up with our Doc. The ER was so busy today, that she spent most of her stay in the hall - in the Bed B slot. From there, we had a window on the world, and while Babiest Girl rested, I rubbed her feet and marveled at the diversity of humanity.
The lady to our right was desperately ill with double pneumonia, but I suspect there was an underlying condition, because she was the color of a delicate daffodil....yellowy, gold. her Husband sat at her feet - looking bored and put out.
In the room across from us - the one that had been ours for a brief time, was an elderly woman with skin like old shoe leather, mouth agape and a stare that was fixed. Her two sons shared a dull, vacant look and wore clothes that were tattered and soiled with human waste. They spent a fair amount of their time standing in the hall - staring at us.
To our left lay a young woman wearing a purple turban - alone and agitated.
To her left was a lovely couple in their 60's. The woman was beautifully dressed and coiffed - the man ill but in good spirits - he seemed to be a regular, so I suspect a lingering illness....his socks were splendid - a funky khaki and white plaid...suggesting a person with a highly developed sense of fun.
In a room, across from them was a woman in her 40's - also alone. She wore a perpetually worried face, and she paced the hall from time to time.
After the woman to our right was admitted to the hospital, another woman took her place. She and her partner were very devoted to each other...they had identical haircuts and tans, and high blood pressure seemed to be the problem.
Then of course, there we were - Babiest girl pale and still, wearing last nights pj's, and me - no makeup - I hadn't even brushed my hair or teeth.
Nurses, Doctors, Aides and Cleaning Attendants wove in and out - an intricate dance of caregiving - dispensing meds, and comfort - bad news and hope. In the midst of it all, my phone rang - it was a friend informing me that another friend lay above me - 4 floors up and to the right. Suddenly and without warning, this friend would be dead within hours - robbed of her life by a giant brain bleed. She leaves behind a husband, small children, and a host of grieving loved ones.
The only bright spot of this day is that it was so full of trauma and drama, that I didn't have the time to worry about College Boy, who left the house at the crack of dawn for a skiing adventure with the Fellas. Within the hour, John should be home from work, and College Boy too (I hope). We will lean against each other, like horses exhausted from a race, taking comfort and finding the strength to make our way to our respective beds. When I close my eyes, I will fall asleep to the soundtrack of my day -the thud of Babiest Girl as she fell, the thump, drag step of the old man carrying his wife's pocketbook....the rumble of the wheels of the gurneys as they made their way up and down the halls, the laughter of the nurses - sharing the camaraderie of trenches, the moans of the lady with the back pain, drifting around the corner - the sound of my friend's tears, as they splashed on the floor....and this hymn, which has been in the back of my mind all day -"We are travelers on a journey, fellow pilgrims on the road. We are here to help each other walk the mile and bear the load. I will hold the Christlight for you, in the nighttime of your fear, I will hold my hand out to you, speak the peace you long to hear. I will weep when you are weeping, when you laugh I'll laugh with you, I will share your joy and sorrow till we've seen this journey through. When we sing to God in Heaven, we shall find such harmony - born of all we've known together, known of love and agony.".......keep singing friends - keep sharing and bearing, for the nighttime of fear is long.....
peace to you
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