One Easter thirty some years ago, our four-year old Kim, recovering from pneumonia, was being weaned off the drug they had used to paralyze her so she wouldn’t injure her lungs with the ventilator set so high. Or so I understood.
Spina Bifida had already paralyzed her below the waist, and several years later a bad neurosurgeon would additionally paralyze her entire left side with a botched shunt revision. But now she was waking up.
We had visited the pediatric ICU every day, but of course she didn’t move, and her open eyes were covered with some ointment so they wouldn’t dry out because she couldn’t blink. (She later told us she thought she was dead because she could hear us but our faces were so blurry.)
Today we brought her sister, 6, and lunch, and in the afternoon a large Easter Bunny brought the girls two small baskets of jelly beans.
Kim’s crib was tilted for some reason, head higher than feet, and when my husband put a jelly bean near her face, it rolled. She laughed. The most beautiful sound.
This is what I hope for you both now, some lightness of heart.
Such adventures. May tomorrow bring peace and strength. You two are extraordinary, and it’s a privilege and a balm to read your stories. Thank you.
The thought of the sun and the view brought a smile to my face, though not so much the Cave room and broken things. I hope the sun brings more to both of you.
Bless you both. dearest E. My friend Mike is in the ICU in the glorious PNW. He's trying to talk and they move his arms and legs for him. We chant and pray the Tibetan way (I know little about this) and hold his hand and he squeezes it back. I tell him I love him because I do.
The only time Katie was in the hospital, when she broke her arm and needed surgery, we discovered a room right by the nursing desk was not ideal, for the staff. Katie doesn't suffer in silence, there was a lot of screaming and crying and we very quickly got a large, private room at the end of the hall, far away from the nursing desk.
I'm glad that Sophie is out of ICU and on the room air trial. Fingers crossed. Sending hugs and love for both of you.
good choice on the walk-in closet with sunshine! I'm so sorry that you and Sophie are going through this AGAIN. They would have to medicate ME if I were caring for my daughter in the hospital for this long. Hoping for a good outcome, and sooner rather than later.
I know those moments of exasperation when a me that I do not recognize emerges. Continue to be Sophie’s Mamma Bear! We feel your true loving spirit and strength. Rejoice in the sunshine and the view from your “closet.” Leave that cave to someone who only needs a brief stay. Figuratively holding your hand, just as you are holding Sophie’s.
Well, a room with a view, no matter how small, has got to be better than a cave in which you would surely lose your mind. It does indeed look quite crowded, though, with all of the fancy things that Sophie needs to get better. Perhaps both of you can send your aural selves out into the sunshine and over the palm trees and all the way to the snow-capped mountains.
One Easter thirty some years ago, our four-year old Kim, recovering from pneumonia, was being weaned off the drug they had used to paralyze her so she wouldn’t injure her lungs with the ventilator set so high. Or so I understood.
Spina Bifida had already paralyzed her below the waist, and several years later a bad neurosurgeon would additionally paralyze her entire left side with a botched shunt revision. But now she was waking up.
We had visited the pediatric ICU every day, but of course she didn’t move, and her open eyes were covered with some ointment so they wouldn’t dry out because she couldn’t blink. (She later told us she thought she was dead because she could hear us but our faces were so blurry.)
Today we brought her sister, 6, and lunch, and in the afternoon a large Easter Bunny brought the girls two small baskets of jelly beans.
Kim’s crib was tilted for some reason, head higher than feet, and when my husband put a jelly bean near her face, it rolled. She laughed. The most beautiful sound.
This is what I hope for you both now, some lightness of heart.
Such adventures. May tomorrow bring peace and strength. You two are extraordinary, and it’s a privilege and a balm to read your stories. Thank you.
The thought of the sun and the view brought a smile to my face, though not so much the Cave room and broken things. I hope the sun brings more to both of you.
I admire your sense of humor Elizabeth!
Sending love your way - so glad you have the sun.
Bless you both. dearest E. My friend Mike is in the ICU in the glorious PNW. He's trying to talk and they move his arms and legs for him. We chant and pray the Tibetan way (I know little about this) and hold his hand and he squeezes it back. I tell him I love him because I do.
All love to your beloved Sophie.
A hospital room with no light? Wow.
The only time Katie was in the hospital, when she broke her arm and needed surgery, we discovered a room right by the nursing desk was not ideal, for the staff. Katie doesn't suffer in silence, there was a lot of screaming and crying and we very quickly got a large, private room at the end of the hall, far away from the nursing desk.
I'm glad that Sophie is out of ICU and on the room air trial. Fingers crossed. Sending hugs and love for both of you.
Sending hugs and more love from here. Hang on to that rare sense of humor. x0x0 N2
good choice on the walk-in closet with sunshine! I'm so sorry that you and Sophie are going through this AGAIN. They would have to medicate ME if I were caring for my daughter in the hospital for this long. Hoping for a good outcome, and sooner rather than later.
I'm glad Sophie is on room air. Progress! And with a view!
I actually enjoy "Green Acres," but I try not to admit it publicly.
I know those moments of exasperation when a me that I do not recognize emerges. Continue to be Sophie’s Mamma Bear! We feel your true loving spirit and strength. Rejoice in the sunshine and the view from your “closet.” Leave that cave to someone who only needs a brief stay. Figuratively holding your hand, just as you are holding Sophie’s.
Continued prayers 🙏🌹
Well, a room with a view, no matter how small, has got to be better than a cave in which you would surely lose your mind. It does indeed look quite crowded, though, with all of the fancy things that Sophie needs to get better. Perhaps both of you can send your aural selves out into the sunshine and over the palm trees and all the way to the snow-capped mountains.
Hooray for the beauty outside the window. And in you. Love to Sophie!
❤️
Never feel bad about breaking down xoxo. Glad you’re out of ICU.