UnSpace

I'll skip the "Great news, he's only got a broken neck!" schtick and just say thanks for the concerns and the comments and prayers. John's being discharged from the hosptial, and soon enough he'll be back to 100%.

Of course, continued prayers for his recovery will be gratefully accepted. This could have been much worse. The doctors, nurses, and paramedics of the ambulance, initial hospital, the helicopter, and Childrens' here in Pittsburgh did a wonderful job.

Thanks.

BTW: No disrespect was meant toward Children's by calling them "Kiddies." It's what I called the place since I was 2 and had severe pneumonia. Ok, technically I only called it that after I'd been there a few days and could get enough air to speak again…. I (and a lot of Pittsburghers) owe them a lot.

"You're not very close to your nephew, are you?" the woman half asked, half stated.

Is that really how people see me?

Sure, I sat in the E.R., calmly watching John, a hand on his shoulder as he slept. I didn't bug the nurses. I didn't scream that the trauma team wasn't hovering over him every second. I didn't keep waking him, saying "You can't go to sleep!"¹ When he got up to the room, I was friendly with his nurses, comforted the mother and grandmother caring for their own child in the next bed. I sat in the chair beside the bed and waited for his parents, for his doctors, and for the morning.

I guess no one noticed that I was sweating horribly in an over-air-conditioned room. No one knows that I'm continuously monitoring vital signs, noticing every twitch and flinch and comparing them with what I know about pediatric trauma, ready to scream for help at an inkling of a problem. The pains in my heart and my stomach don't show on my face. I'm friendly to the nurses, so that they will listen to me when I speak and might even try just a little bit harder. I evesdrop on the doctors as they discuss John, swipe looks at the chart, and analyze each medical professional's every action. Once, I even used one of my paramedic "Jedi Mind Tricks" to get a more complete answer out of a harried physician.

Do you really think I don't want to flop on the floor screaming? Does anyone think I'm not scared? I'm Mr. Worry, and one of my personal mottos is "If you're not worried, you're not paying attention." I'm paying very close attention.

My stomach wouldn't be so messed up if I could just cut loose. Even a good cry would help. But I've had to help throw family members out for just such behavior.² Freaking out might make me feel good, but it would take away from John's care and get me thrown out of the room, if not the hospital.

By holding it in, I could be there for John every time he wakes up in the night, able to say "I'm here, and your parents are on the way." If I appear cold and clinical, it is only in the service of the roiling emotions that I hide and use to stay alert through the night.

This is what I thought when the woman asked me the question "You're not very close to your nephew, are you?" I couldn't manage to come up with something to say. And so she continued on.

"It's obvious you love him. I heard that he was lifeflighted to Pittsburgh. It's a shame you live so far from him, but at least that meant you were able to be here for him when he needed you."

Oh. That kind of "not close."

I thanked her and said something about doing what I could. As I looked at her face, I realized I was seeing my reflection. The clinical detachment was painted on, I knew exactly where look to see the concern and fear that we shared.

I keep promising myself a good gut-wrenching crying session. Every time something comes up, I say "Later, when you're not needed, when it won't cause problems." I certainly need it. But somewhere, I think I forgot how to cry. I wish I could remember how, and not just for this latest incident.

John continues to recover. Thank you for those who prayed or left notes. And yes, I left out a lot of information and even fudged some things to make it difficult for anyone to track him down based on my blog. He's my nephew, and it's my job to protect him.

1. Note: Sleeping, by itself, is not bad for trauma patients — even head trauma patients. It doesn't break things or cause more damage. If anything, it gives the body a chance to heal, which is the general idea. The problem is, it makes it harder to evaluate how well the patient's doing. Changes in mental state can be the first clue to a progressing injury. There are other things to look for, of course, and waking the patient every once in a while to check the level of consciousness is sufficient under almost all circumstances. [back]
2. Have you ever noticed they let family members into the treatment area on E.R. (TV show) during the first crucial minutes? Ever notice that's where a lot of the drama comes from? Ever notice no hospital on the planet lets family members into the treatment room until things have calmed down and they know the family member can be trusted? TV needs drama. An E.R. doesn't. [back]