My daughter has been in the hospital for nearly a week now. Because of the move, my business trip, and now this, I've stayed in seven hotels, in the last three weeks.
I'm weary.
Last night my husband picked up my sons and took them back "home," leaving me at the Ronald McDonald House, with an empty stroller that he couldn't fit into his car.
My heart felt empty as I looked around at yet another unfamiliar place, full of unfamiliar people.
I wandered around, observing families rushing off the to hospital, only to drag their weary bodies back later that night. A mixture of hope and brokenness, all blended into one big kitchen where we all ate together, yet alone.
The Ronald McDonald House didn't have room for me tonight, so this morning I checked out and found myself pushing a childless stroller, piled high with all my stuff, around the hospital, wondering if anyone was noticing me.
I'm sitting in the cafeteria now, and there's a young doctor sitting in the corner crying. I wonder what's on his mind. Perhaps the enormity of his job? Waking up day after day to step into a world that he only enters, in an effort to try and pull others out.
It's the humanity of the situation that stands out to me the most. The humanity I've seen on such a deep level these last few days, when death knocks on the door and we all try to hold it shut.
The burdens we carry, alone, when what we really need most, is the humanity of others.
My daughter will be OK, but not before we are here for another few weeks. So while I'm here, I'm going to work on getting my head out of my own space, and opening up my mind to include others.
I'm not the only one suffering, and for those lucky enough not to be suffering at all, it doesn't cease to exist just because we are too busy to notice.
So today I challenge you to be thankful for the great day you're having, and spend five minutes doing something for someone who may not be so lucky.
Show a little humanity to the ones carrying their burdens alone.
And then if you can, please come back here and comment on what you did to make someone smile, so that while I'm sitting there tonight, in another unfamiliar place, after dragging my weary body through the doors, I'll know that I'm not as alone as it sometimes feels.
It's hard to feel alone, when we know that people notice us.
Notice people.
It's as simple as that.
**Reposted from my Facebook page a few days ago. Little one is still in the hospital, so please keep praying!
o bring light to others in the midst if your own pain.
ReplyDeleteI went today to visit a friend who is in hospice. Sat and held his hand and brought one of his favorite baked treats to bring a smile to his face. Trying to spread some light myself.
Big HUGS honey
I used to work at Cardinal Glennon Children's hospital in STL. Hardest job I ever had. Just so emotionally draining.
ReplyDeleteBut I learned the Hospitals themselves have resources for families. Find a case worker, they might have housing or vouchers for housing nearby. I know local hotels donate rooms. You might be able to find one. Better than sleeping on a chair. I did that for months after my son was born.
Praying for you, friend!
ReplyDeleteI bought a patients wife subway because she didn't have her wallet. And we didnt have any meal vouchers
ReplyDeleteHugs Mama, you are Eden strong! Seriously though, prayers for your family. This summer is ridiculously hot (temps over 100) so I've been leaving a cold water bottle in ice for our mail man. He's a great guy, walks about 10 miles a day. He doesn't always take the water but he said knowing it was there if he needed it really helps him.
ReplyDeleteI lived this life for 59 days last year. It is exhausting, draining, emotional, frightening, and yet held with faith and hope. I wish there was something I could do to help YOU. YOU too need some way to feel acknowledged for this hospital life you did not ask to live. It sounds silly, but I made friends with the cashiers in the cafeteria and the gift shop. I chatted with more security guards and still have my favorites that I visit when we go back for check ups. While at the hospital, everyone smiles, and puts their head down because you are trying to provide some respect for privacy, but sometimes you want to yell out and say “who is here with me? Who has done this that can show me where the road goes?” I have yet to find another person on a similar road to me (11 months later, I still feel lonely even when in a group of friends) but I am grateful for those that walk the road with me even if it is a few minutes or few hours or few days. Does this hospital have a child life staff? Can you ask them if there is a support group for parents staying of long term admitted patients? Can you ask friends to trade off some time or just come have soup in the cafe with you so you can talk? Also if you can...FaceTime with those you are closest to. It helps just seeing their face. I am sending you hugs and prayers. Prayers of faith, comfort, understanding, patience and knowledge. A couple more weeks must feel like a lifetime right now. Just know there are others that really do understand how you are feeling. I would not have made it thru without my aunt and my husband. Lean on those closest to you.
ReplyDelete* hugs* My neighbor's elderly cat hangs around outside, waiting for her human to get home from work. I give her pats, and she walks me to the mailbox and back.
ReplyDeleteI remember days like that when my son was in the nicu. You can do this. I remember when my son was brought back from the level 4 nicu at a German hospital to the lower level military one. There was a mama sobbing because her first born was having so many problems. Turns out it was similar to my son but she had a girl and girls do better than boys. Smh...we had a good talk and a little cry. We both left feeling so much better. I'm confident you'll do the same even if it's just a smile. Smiles can lighten a load so much!
ReplyDeleteYou poor thing. That poor Dr. Just know this to will pass.
ReplyDeleteHugs to you Eden! <3 You are one strong woman.
ReplyDeleteHugs mama!
ReplyDelete