We just dropped off Annie and Tom. In the dark, outside the deserted building, she made a grand show of "her last breadth of fresh air." She also pointed out the significance of the double sliding doors closing behind her as she entered the futuristic lobby. For her last transplant we referred to the hospital as "the hotel." This time we've dubbed it "the space station." We talked about how this must be similar to what astronauts feel when they head off to spend months on the space station.
Getting the first night off duty, I get to come home and relax. In some ways that is my most overarching feeling. Excepting her hospital stays, it has been seven very long years trying to keep her safe on literally an hourly basis. There is a degree of peace that comes with handing her care over to a medical team. This has not been the same feeling for Katherine who had to come home to the realization that the sibling she has shared a room with almost since Annie's birth is not there.
No comments:
Post a Comment