I go by our local hospital often and I always make sure I look towards it and think about the people inside. I was born in this hospital, have had several surgeries in its operating rooms, visited the emergency room for several minerare (minor to moderate) something-suddenly-came-ups.
But is has also been the scene for the most serious and gravest moments of my life. My mother’s heart attack, her diagnosis of stage 4 gall bladder cancer and my husband’s cardiac crisis where the word “transplant” introduced me to the single most terrifying moment of my life.
It is also the place I went the morning I woke up to two eyes blind. I,spent 16 hours there that day until I was transported to a Philadelphia hospital at midnight that evening. But when Our local hospital I don’t think about that day. I think about the days and nights at my mom and husband’s bedsides, talking to doctors, forming relationships with nurses, always asking questions, never allowing the soul stealing, crippling fear get in the way of my advocate role. Breakdowns could occur during the few hours I went home to shower or to check on Piper, our parrot.
I make myself visit the feelings of being in that hospital with my mom and husband along with the sounds and the smells every time I pass. And I think about the fact that there are people at that very moment having a similar experience while I head to lunch with a friend or grocery shop and run errands on a Saturday morning. I never want to be back there but I never want to forget either. I have found that good health makes no promises and does nothing to prepare us for when things go bad. But once they do, you finally understand and you will never be the same again.
I am so appreciative that we have a hospital nearby and healthcare professionals to,take care of us and am even more grateful not to need their services. But the ultimate gratitude comes from knowing the difference.