W.O.W.- or When One Waits (Floor 10)

When life gets interrupted, everything that seemed important before falls by the wayside.  The week you had planned becomes meaningless and your focus zeros in on each minute you are living in. Hours can either drag by or speed past, depending on whether you are waiting for something, or trying to make something last.

Sleep becomes optional and of the 24 hours in a day, at least 16 are spent at the scene of the "crime" or in this case - on Floor 10 - the intensive care ward where decisions are made and changed and made again.  You become acutely aware of the different sounds and what they mean.  Monitors tell stories and you become adept at interpreting them.

Rooms on either side are quiet and there aren't many visitors (limit two to a room) on Floor 10.  All doors are sliding glass and you can see everyone and they can see you (and yours).  So when the woman next door (who looks about your age) is taken off life support and has her family brought in to say goodbye, you cast your eyes down in respect...and empathy.

The only distraction besides the comings and goings of the doctors and nurses is the helicopter pad right outside the window where you have a perfect view of the landings.  This happens with such frequency that you feel involved as each new patient arrives.  And most of them end up on the same floor you are only visiting.  You discuss and speculate about their condition upon arrival with your mom to pass the time.  "oh, this looks like a car accident victim - fully ventilated, face covered".  "this one is conscious and alert, sitting up and talking".  "Oh no, this girl is ventilated and has long blonde hair,  Just a teenager".  She looked like she was just sleeping.

When she came up to our floor, we watched all the family arrive and witnessed such grief.  And with that grief was despair.  The type we were hoping to avoid.  They came in two by two, grandparents (two sets) siblings, parents...and then it was over.  Everyone left.  But we know their end is really just a tragic beginning....

Tough messages are given on Floor 10 when you are waiting.  Messages from siblings and grand kids that you have been tasked to relay to your loved one that he may or may not understand.  You hope these aren't final words but they have that "ring" to them.  But you choke them out because it's important and they need to be said.  And you go over everything in your head to make sure you haven't forgotten anything or anyone.  You put his lucky buckeye in his hand...for a minute.

There are only two ways to get off Floor 10 (and good behavior wasn't one of them).  Fortunately for us, release came after 5 long days and nights.  Recovery is slow but it does continue.  Yet I am still thinking about Floor 10.

Until next time,
#Godbewithyou
#especiallyonFloor10

your pal,

Kari