Thursday, April 28, 2011

Children's Hospital

I acknowledge that my family desperately needs Children's Hospital right now, but that does nothing to calm my seething hatred for all things sterile. I've hated hospitals since I was a teenager. I got to witness first hand my grandmother's pathetic, skinny body covered in tubes after her suicide attempt - the one that took her life. It has created such a distaste in my mouth that I have never recovered from it. As the days draw nearer to Preston's next appointment the butterflies -which always flutter in my stomach since his diagnosis- slowly cocoon themselves and become heavy boulders. This feeling - its a kin to stage fright. Every minute that draws closer to your appearance in front of the audience feels like eternal torture. Your heart races, your mouth is dry, and it's hard to eat because those boulders in your stomach leave no room for anything. You just want to step into those bright lights and get it over with. That's the best way I can describe this feeling to those who have never experienced it. And at the end of all this tension and anxiety - when the play draws to a close - my players don't just get a good or bad review...we get a good review or open heart surgery for our infant.

I can't prepare for this drama. There are two separate endings to this play and I have no clue which ending I will be enacting. I'm out on stage, going through the motions, projecting an eerie confidence that I don't feel and I just want to flip to the end and see the outcome. Scott tries to remind me that the cardiologist believed Preston would never need surgery and I want so badly to feel what he feels. He has this quiet optimism about him, a complete confidence that our news will be good, our review a heralded success. Such good odds...but what the hell is that suppose to mean to me anymore? The odds are Preston should never have been born with a congenital heart defect to begin with. The odds are that the Ventricular Septal Defect should have been one or two holes at best, not an infinite number - not so many that the doctors couldn't f*cking count them. I'm sorry. It's still raw. It still bleeds. This anger that it was my baby. Percentages, odds, in all likelihoods - I can't translate them into hope anymore. They lost that ability the day Preston was struggling to breath. The day I sat in that hospital room praying he was fixable - begging whoever was out there to have a little bit of mercy on me - on us.

Exhale.

I hate hospitals but I begrudgingly admit we need them - maybe after the 4th I can even learn to appreciate them - one way or the other...I guess I'll have to.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

My heart aches for what you guys still continue to endure..I pray it will be over by Wednesday and you can finally move forward to a clear bright future without this cloud of fear and doubt.

mom

Anonymous said...

He IS your baby! and he's beaten a lot of odds considering whats he's been through so far. he's a champ, just like his mother! the outlook looks good. hospitals still smell same but the doctors have improved skills so whatever the outcome i'm sure will be good. breathe already!!!

carrie said...

LOL. Thanks anonymous (Wanita?) I'm breathing! I just hate waiting. It builds up way more anxiety then is warranted!! But whatever comes next at least it will be a sort of finality. No more guesses! We will know the answer on the 4th.

Patty said...

I can't imagine your anxiety as a mom. It is nice to have a husband who sees the cup as half full sometimes. My hubby tends to balance me out too. So sorry for the waiting period... I'm like you too regarding the desire to fast forward to an outcome or I will be that way if I get pregnant.

carrie said...

That's exactly how I would put it Patty. Scott is the optimist, i'm more of the cautious pessimist. I have this belief that if I prepare for the worst then at the very least I won't be caught off guard and if it's good news then i get to be pleasantly surprised. In any case, my waiting may have to be extended. I let my oldest son (3 years old - the one I Pprom'd with) go to a birthday party of our neighbour since no one in my house has socialized for six months and of course some mom sent her sick kid to the party! Now everyone's sick in the family (but me!) and I can't in good conscience bring Preston to the cardiac ward to wait with all the other cardiac infants when he's contagious. So we are going to phone them the morning of his appointment and see what they want us to do....argh...