My sweet eight-year-old was in the hospital last weekend.
She'd been sick for about ten days and not improving, and all of a sudden we were at the hospital, having dropped off our littlest one at my parent's house. I packed for both kids, but not for myself; all I thought to bring was my purse and phone, so I spent three days in the same outfit: jeans, long-sleeved top and suede boots with heels an inch too high (what was I thinking?).
Our brave girl was outfitted with an NG tube, and I honestly thought I was going to pass out while it was going in. I felt so helpless and she looked so tiny in the big hospital bed.
As scary and exhausting as the experience was for me, it wasn't a terrible experience for her. The doctors and nurses were sensitive and wonderful. There were toys and books and DVDs, visiting animals, plastic bags filled with activities and crafts donated by schools and organizations-- it was a place full of love and caring.
I left wondering at how lucky we were, and at how many people helped my daughter get better, including the volunteer who brought his gigantic, fluffy dog into her room on Saturday. I can't remember any of the names of the men and women who took care of us, it was all a terrible blur, but to all you doctors and nurses out there: thank you for all that you do. Thank you, thank you.
Drawing made with crayons, markers and stencils in the hospital.