Three sections, only divided by a thin beige curtain, each patient strapped to an IV pole filled with blood products, nothing to shield the private conversations between loved ones, the awkward sound of pain in the voices of the sick and dying.
Today, I am a witness, only by ear, the conversation of how long to prolong a life...do they keep going with blood and platelets, or do they slowly watch her die at home, comfortably, around family.
The pained halls of East 8, here at LDS hospital, are filled with strength and hope, weakness of body and sadness of heart. The bald heads, yellow gowns, and face masks, remind me how fragile life is here.
The conversation of death, is a hard one. Chris and I have talked about the future; what I will do when or if he passes into the other life, what he will miss from this earth...like the spring flowers on the fruit trees. How can I have these conversations with my husband and children at such a young age? How can I go on without my best friend? How can I raise my children without his strength pushing behind me? Where will my strength go?
Chris is not dying yet, we still have so many options, but listening to the conversation taken place less than six-inches away from me, by a couple in our very same position, makes it all too real.
Our hearts are tired, our bodies are weak, and our spirits are broken...but yet, we go on, we go on like tomorrow is another normal day, even if that day is spent for nine hours getting blood transfusions.
This trial is breaking me, breaking my pride, breaking my heart...learning to give it all to my Heavenly Father, and asking for help from my friends and family. Perfect...I am not, I fall, I get up, I fall again, but I keep getting up, maybe a little bruised, but I get up.
Today, I sit next to my sleeping husband at East 8, as life-saving blood is pumped into his body, and I wonder what is next? How can I get this ache from inside my heart and stomach to subside? My tears are nearly ready to fall, I yearn for peace, and the days of laughter as Chris and I play outside with our kids...I pray Chris gets his strength back and we will soon be playing again.
Please forgive me for being so emotional today.
I love my husband, and can't imagine a day without him.
Today, I am a witness, only by ear, the conversation of how long to prolong a life...do they keep going with blood and platelets, or do they slowly watch her die at home, comfortably, around family.
The pained halls of East 8, here at LDS hospital, are filled with strength and hope, weakness of body and sadness of heart. The bald heads, yellow gowns, and face masks, remind me how fragile life is here.
The conversation of death, is a hard one. Chris and I have talked about the future; what I will do when or if he passes into the other life, what he will miss from this earth...like the spring flowers on the fruit trees. How can I have these conversations with my husband and children at such a young age? How can I go on without my best friend? How can I raise my children without his strength pushing behind me? Where will my strength go?
Chris is not dying yet, we still have so many options, but listening to the conversation taken place less than six-inches away from me, by a couple in our very same position, makes it all too real.
Our hearts are tired, our bodies are weak, and our spirits are broken...but yet, we go on, we go on like tomorrow is another normal day, even if that day is spent for nine hours getting blood transfusions.
This trial is breaking me, breaking my pride, breaking my heart...learning to give it all to my Heavenly Father, and asking for help from my friends and family. Perfect...I am not, I fall, I get up, I fall again, but I keep getting up, maybe a little bruised, but I get up.
Today, I sit next to my sleeping husband at East 8, as life-saving blood is pumped into his body, and I wonder what is next? How can I get this ache from inside my heart and stomach to subside? My tears are nearly ready to fall, I yearn for peace, and the days of laughter as Chris and I play outside with our kids...I pray Chris gets his strength back and we will soon be playing again.
Please forgive me for being so emotional today.
I love my husband, and can't imagine a day without him.
Thinking about you and praying for you every day. Love you all.
ReplyDeleteI love all of the pics! And have I mentioned how much I love your sweet kids? Every time they see me at school, they run up and give me a big hug :) Well, sometimes Riley is too shy, but I can tell she wants too. So I just go up to her and give her a big hug!
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