Glasses

I hit the doors of the ICU dead on at 10am and, of course, they were still closed. I did my usual pacing round and round, watching where my toes hit in the center of each square tile. After a few minutes someone walks out and I slip through the double doors as they start to close and bee-line for her room.

Amber, her nurse, is sitting on her perch looking over a long graph...folding it out and over. She looks up as I come to the room and smiles in greeting, I smile in return and look in at the silent figure on the bed. I turn to ask my usual question, but Amber is already on her feet, looking into the room at the monitors...she gives me the run down...how the night went, where things are now, goals for the day...hopes. A lot of the bad stuff gets left out, instead I tend to hear "well, her blood pressure is pretty much the same" which translates to "we can't get her blood pressure under control and we don't know why and there may be a problem". Thankfully, though, today there were very few of those and her blood pressure was on the "looking good" list. Amber smiles at me again, a sort of familiar trusting and reassuring smile, and quietly says "she'll be happy to see you".

I walk in and she opens her eyes, I smile and take her hand...juggling my car keys, a bottle of water, and the Nintendo DS I've brought in with me...I tell her it's me and she nods. I explain I'm going to set my things down and come back, I kiss her hand and slip mine out of hers. Her blind eyes follow me the best they can across the room. I look over to her silently, taking a moment to take in the room and how it feels...how it smells. Her eyes are watery and full of fear, her brow is slightly knitted...she is scared and confused, and alone from what all her senses tell her. I realize she can't call for help, she has no voice...it is blocked by a thick plastic tube that is "helping her breathe", her hands are in restraints...tied down next to her sides. She can't speak, she can't gesture, she's blind, and only semi-conscious while being given amnesiacs so she can't remember one day to the next.

Terrifying

I walked back to her and held her hand, it feels like holding a surgical glove that's been filled to some comical size with warm water. I leaned close, so the light was on my face and she had some chance of being able to see me if I held still and told her all about family and friends, everything I could come up with. I felt so helpless, she kept looking at me with those watery frightened eyes. Finally I asked her if something was wrong...feeling the internal face-palm as I said it...of COURSE there's something wrong, look at her. She nodded and I started guessing. Sometimes she seemed to just drift off, her eyes going vacant and I'd try harder to guess the right thing. What did she need?...Pain medicine? Is your mouth dry? Do you want to talk about someone particular? Do you want the TV on? Are you feet cold? Do you want me to rub your legs? Are you uncomfortable? Is it too warm in here for you? Too cold? ...sometimes she'd shake her head 'no', but most of the time she'd just check out.

I put my head down on the hard plastic rail and apologized for not being able to guess right. I looked at her and felt struck with sudden inspiration...I started going slowly over each letter of the alphabet asking her if what she wanted started with it. Eventually, after about the fourth go through all 26 letters she nodded when I said 'M'. Later we narrowed it down to something starting with M that is a thing which is found indoors and does not have to do with the hospital.

It's still bugging me.

Doctors came and went, poking, proding...she'd cling to my hand and I'd try with everything I had to translate for her. "That hurts...no a bit more to the left...yes, right there" as her face would screw up in obvious pain. More x-rays, more tests...I'm almost sorry I said anything....they weren't watching her face, they'd never have known.

She got her glasses back today, they help what little vision she has left and I think it makes her feel a bit more normal. I can't imagine what it must be like, laying there like that, tubes in literally every orifice and several new holes made in your body to accommodate more tubes...I pray I never know.

She was also given a stuffed dog today, that came with a gentle story and the innocent, uncomplicated, unconditional love of three children. When I put it in her hand so she could feel the remarkably soft plush fur she closed her eyes, I told her the story and gently brushed the tears from her cheek.

When I left she was sound asleep, one hand tightly curled around the dog with her glasses on.