Encore

This afternoon Mark's nurse called 911 because Mark was going into respiratory distress and was not responding to the treatment she was giving. This event was very similar to the last one exactly one month ago. The respiratory problems seem to be brought on by acute abdominal pain.

911 response in our area is very quick. Within just a few minutes the street was lined with two police cars, a fire truck, an ambulance and then a little later a second ambulance. This brings with it all kinds of curious onlookers, from caring neighbors, to kids on bikes who had chased the firetruck down our street. The EMS workers whisked Mark out the door and into the ambulance. Erin jumped in the front while the EMS team attended to Marks needs in the back. The trip to Sick Kids doesn't take long and soon Mark is back in the trauma room that is becoming too familiar. The nurses and Docs are beginning to recognize is.

That's the story but how do I feel. I don't. I don't feel much. If anything I'm beginning to feel experienced at this. Linda too, she just turns on another mode. Feelings are shut down and surviving takes priority.

As I write this blog, as I stop to think, an ache begins deep in my chest. If I stop to focus on it I can touch my deep feelings. I close my eyes and imagine touching a button, like an elevator button. It was no number, just tiny letters spelling F E E L I N G S. I am so deeply sad at the sight of Mark thrashing on a hospital gurney. He arches his back and cries out. His legs tremble. This is not a seizure. Marks movements are too purposeful and he is conscious and responsive. There is nothing I can do. He seems so alone, because he can't tell us how he's feeling.

I lean in close so he can feel my fuzzy whiskers. This time I'm not listening for a laugh, instead I'm here to deliver some good news. I tell him,"Daddy's here and I love you".

W