for the first time in my life, i stepped out of that elevator and the hair on my arms stood up straight. goose bumps shot up my spine to the back of my neck. the air felt stale in my lungs. i had a bad taste in my mouth. and i hated this place.
for the longest time, i was the only one i knew who actually liked hospitals. i was also one of the lucky few who didn't associate them with death. for me, hospitals meant a new life was just starting. babies. and if you know me at all, you'd know how excited that gets me. normally, i'm the happiest person in the whole place. i've got flowers, and cards, and other children in tow practically racing down the halls to see a new brother, or sister, or cousin. i've always loved hospitals. always.
i've even lived in one. for nine months when my brother was sick. and i thought it was the coolest thing ever. i was only two at the time, but i remember all of it. i remember the toys i got to play with. and the layout of our walk from our room in the
Ronald McDonald House, to his room in the main hospital. i remember what i ate for breakfast, captain crunch crunch berries. and the doll house i wasn't supposed to touch. i remember playing little red riding hood. and that big train above the fireplace. even then, when my baby brother was dying, i loved that place. now i'm sure my parents would give you an entirely different description of what they remember, but to me the place was magic. shortly after my brother passed away. and while it pains me now, at the time i did not understand. so i continued on with my love for hospitals and the life they give, choosing not to think about the life they sometimes take away. until now.
i turned the corner to see him. head down. arms crossed over this chest. leaning against the wall. in my entire life i can't ever remember him looking so scared. i walked straight up to him and buried my head in his chest. that's when i heard it. he was crying. truly. in twenty years i have seen this man cry one time. once. in twenty years. and there he was, the strongest man i know crying in my arms like a seventeen year old boy. that's how old he was when they got married, and i knew that's what he was thinking about now. "i signed up for this." he said. "in good times, and in bad. in sickness, and in health." and boy was this the bad time. and yes, she was very sick.
i walked in the room and i swear she's never looked so frail. she has always been a small person, but never ever this small. her body was curled up under what must have been 4 blankets and still, she was shaking. "i'm so cold" she would say. "i just.. [pause.] i just.. need some glucose." she cried. "my stomach aches so bad." and she would cry again. in that first hour i'm not sure the crying ever stopped.
finally he got there, and finally the put an iv in her. finally she stopped shaking. finally the tears stopped.
she needed to go to the bathroom, she said. so we lifted her up, my aunt and i. and i swear i could have carried her with my one arm. as i untied her hospital robe i had to choke back my tears. so small.. she is just so small.
when we laid her back down i could tell she was starting to feel those fluids rushing through her veins. she laid on her back now, with a pillow under her knees. we had to get her blood flowing and her circulation moving again. she sipped ice water and even requested orange juice. and i knew she was finally coming to.
i'd been there for about and hour when she asked. when i answered she told me "i'm so glad you're here" and squeezed my hand. "i am too, mow. i am too." and i was. i was so thankful i was there, and not in Nashville yet.
and i told her that too. i told her she better not dare do this to us when i'm not there to hold her hand. and that she will start eating if i have to buy her a sharie's apple pie every single day. which i did last night. that is all she wanted. apple pie. the cafeteria was closed by the time she felt like eating so i drove down the road a ways and came back with an entire pie. she only ate 5 bites, but that was enough for me. 5 bites more than she'd had all day. and that was a step in the right direction.
i finally left her around 10:15. she was watching the news, and while i insisted on staying until she fell asleep, she didn't want me driving home any later. since i knew if i did stay i would undoubtedly fall asleep before her [i was already dozing off], i gave in and drove home. papa's words echoing in my head "life isn't always perfect, is it?" and all i could think about was the people i want by my side through the good times and the bad.
