Confessions from the Hospital

The hospital is quite an eerie place on the weekends. The halls are dark and cold. Life is almost non-existent. It’s an eerie reminder that while you’re stuck in a hospital room, the rest of the world continues to live on. It makes one feel trapped.

Days turn into weeks and before too long, you begin to forget what day it is. Your body begins to feel the weight of the stress of the hospital stay.

The trauma sets in and you realize this was the first of potentially many weeklong hospital stays and that things will never be the same. You begin to question every illness and wonder if keeping your child home was the best idea. You worry that every cough could turn into pneumonia. You wonder what life will look like moving forward as another specialist is added to your team and more appointments have to be made to follow this new diagnosis.

I’ll never give up hope, but I’ll never stop worrying about what is to come. I wish I could take the pain away. I wish life were easier. I wish every day wasn’t a struggle for my daughter. I wish she could see how she’s already changed the world in so many ways.