I say it often, but not often enough. Everyone has a story. Sometimes those stories are inspirational. Sometimes they’re heartbreaking. Sometimes they are infuriating.
This post is about when stories are sad. And hard. And confusing.
It has been a week in the Taylor household. I’ve written about our oldest son in this space many times (Here, here, here, here, here, and here). This past week, he had surgery to repair an abnormality in his abdomen. As of this writing, he is still on a ventilator and is being cared for in the Intensive Care Unit at our local hospital.
As I was leaving the hospital this evening, I walked past 40-some other ICU rooms on my way out of the unit. As I walked, all I could think about were the heart-wrenching stories each one of those patients and their families could tell.
The baby in a crib with the machine that is sounding an alarm. The father sitting in a chair with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. And our son sedated with tubes and cables attached to every limb.
And then there are the doctors and nurses and technicians and housekeeping crews and patient transport teams and hospital chaplain and countless other people who make it possible for a hospital to run.
This past week, I’ve been reminded so many times of when Evan was a baby. Twenty-eight years ago, in this very same hospital, also on a ventilator, fighting every moment against the tubes and electrodes attached to him. That certainly hasn’t changed.
Everyone keeps asking me what they can do to help. And the short answer is nothing, really. My husband and I go to the hospital, brush back his hair and talk softly to him. We tell him we are right there and that he is strong and that he’s a fighter and that he’ll get better.
I’m sure that’s what other parents tell their children when they are sick. It’s what nearly every family member tells someone when they are critically ill or injured.
Keep fighting. You’ll get through this. It will be over soon.
This is a short post this week, primarily because I’m tired, and barely have the energy to get done what I absolutely have to.
If you have a moment this week – and anytime in the future – think about other people’s stories. The friend who walked right past you and didn’t acknowledge your presence. The driver who ran the red light. The clerk in the grocery store who appears to have ignored your question.
We’ve all got things on our minds that take our attention away from what is happening in the here and now. Why, just a few evenings ago, as I was driving through the parking garage to leave the hospital, I didn’t notice the guy who started to walk out from between two parked cars until I was already past him and saw him raise a one-fingered salute at my taillights.
We’re all dealing with stuff. Maybe if we treat each other with respect and give each other the benefit of the doubt, we’ll help each other deal with all of it.
Until next week,
Susie from Stix-N-Stonez