10 years deserves a word

They told us it would be a long day. They warned us we'd be the first in the waiting room and the last to leave.

When a late night emergency surgery swooshed in, we thought maybe we wouldn't be the last after all.

We were wrong.

Not a soul was left in that waiting room with us in the end. Not a living soul. The last paid employee had left for the night and shuttered the lights, not fully, but mostly. So we sat there, waiting in the dim light with a dim hope in our aching hearts.

Eventually, Jonathan went back to the "employee only" section to see if we could learn something, anything. He heard that the surgeon had nearly finished closing Trevor up and we'd soon be able to see him again.

The vision of his swollen face, lying so still, all wrapped in white, an almost angelic glow about him, that vision will forever be seared on our hearts.

They told us it would be a long day. And it was.

In some ways, that long day hasn't ended. We continue to live that long day beside him as he continues to grow into his own and we learn what that means. We remain so grateful for all that his surgery has given us.

As we found him after Phase Two of his Left Subtotal Hemispherectomy 10/9/2009


blogzilly said...

I like that this place is still a home for you. There is something comforting about that to me. I cannot explain why. Maybe because social media can be so filled with negativity but you always tried so hard to protect this space and keep it, what’s the word, precious? Yeah, precious, for Trevor and the rest of your family.

All my hopes...

Danielle said...

Social media makes sharing so much easier and allows me to leave this space "twaddle free". It can just be to high light moments I think are especially important in our journey. I continue to keep it updated intermittently, but mostly for the siblings sake. So that one day, when they want to really read about their brother's story from my perspective, it will be here, waiting.