Concrete walls and a machine that goes “ping”


There are no four walls that contain more joy and more misery than a hospital. A place of healing can quickly become a place of sadness with the reading of a few numbers or a somber look on a Clinician’s face.

The four walls that currently contain my mother are filled with uncertainty and questions. She is being kept comfortable and pain-free and the staff have been attentive and kind. But there is still a shroud of nagging doubt – a cloud that hovers over my mother’s hospital bed threatening to flood the room with reality.

The machines beep, the fluids continue intravenously and the revolving door of doctors, nurses and visitors continues to spin. Kind words are spoken, prayers are uttered and friends become more like family.

Thank you all for the words of support and the hugs sent across the blogosphere. It truly means a lot. And even though the embrace is not tangible, I can still feel it.