When I was a kid, I had lots of scary experiences in the hospital, all by myself, because my parents weren’t allowed to be with me.
I remember listening to the beeping sounds of heart monitors, in the darkest part of the night, feeling frozen.
I’m writing this blog post from a cot in a hospital room, next to my amazing 15-year-old son, who is recovering quite nicely from a procedure, this afternoon, to correct a “spontaneous pneumothorax.”
Earlier, this was the view from his hospital room as day turned to night:
It’s the darkest part of the night, right now. The only sounds I hear in this room are reassuring ones, including those of my son’s undisturbed sleep.
Each moment I’m with him now, I’m unfreezing.
Thanks, so much, for witnessing this.