Saturday, April 24, 2010

Saturday, April 24



Collin was still groggy from the surgery the night before, and then they had to sedate and intubate him again to do another MRI to make sure the whole tumor had been removed. Our daughter came to the hospital that day, and we talked to her about what kinds of things she would see and hear when we took her into the PICU to see Collin. She asked great questions, and then said, "Can I see Collin now?" We took her back to his crib, and got a tall seat for her to climb onto so she could see Collin and hold his hand and talk to him. He did open his eyes for a moment and seemed to realize she was there.

That night, Bill and I took turns sitting by Collin's crib. I was again taking a nap in the family waiting room when I was awakened by crying. I knew right away that some other poor family had just experienced the unthinkable. Not wanting to intrude on their pain, I just laid there with a feeling of sick dread and pretended to still be asleep. I dozed off again, but woke up when they came in to get their things. Once they were gone from the room, I went into the PICU to be with Bill and Collin, and realized that the baby of the young parents we had spoken to earlier that day had just passed away, and they were there saying goodbye. I avoided them, because my baby was still alive, and I had no idea what to say to them, and then I felt guilty.

1 comment:

  1. "some other poor family had just experienced the unthinkable"

    You're right, it is unthinkable. When I try to think something like this happens to my kids (I have 3), my brains just stops...

    - Adam

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