I have no new medical updates on Ana except to say that she’s been taken off of 24/7 I.V. fluids for the moment, which means she can move around freely for the first time since we got here last Saturday. It also means that we are not getting woken up every couple of hours to the I.V. beeping. I got the first relatively normal night’s sleep since I’ve been here. Ana’s pain is also a lot better and she seemed her old self as of last night.
Now I’m going to allow myself a little self-indulgent reflection and possibly some self-pity, so those of you that just wanted to check in and see how Ana’s doing may leave the room. I promise to post an update as soon as I know more.
I can’t believe it’s Saturday again and my child is still in this hospital room. Last Saturday I woke up before everyone else (as usual) got myself ready for a bike ride and mentally planned the day. Ana had just come home from being in Montreal a week with her grandma and we were going to clean up her room, and look at her pictures from the trip. But she also didn’t feel well and I figured I could take her into be seen at the Emergency clinic and get her home early enough to rest up. In the back of my mind I was very worried – she looked even thinner than before she’d left for her trip and she was extremely pale. I thought the worst case scenario might be appendicitis.
I never imagined that my life would change the minute that bike ride was over. I can’t believe that this is MY child this is happening to even though I’ve already accepted this new way of life – and begun to become an expert in living out of a hospital room. I keep speaking in cliches which is really alarming for someone who majored in English and thinks of herself as a somewhat decent writer. Things like, “we’ll cross that bridge…” keep coming out of my mouth. Ana finally told me to stop saying that (she’s got an excellent grasp of language so naturally that expression offends her).
The other day I said, “This is everyone’s worst nightmare,” without a trace of irony. Even biblical cliches keep popping into my head and anyone who knows me, knows that I am definitely not a religious person, “God only gives us what we can handle,” for example. Ugh. I’ve always hated that expression, but it’s been popping into my head constantly like a broken record.
I don’t want to accept that I’ve come to accept this situation. I want Ana to be better and I know that’s going to be a long road. Agh! I did it again. Long road. You see what I mean? I’m just going to stop now because I don’t even know what my point was going to be.
I do want to end on a positive note.I think Ana has begun to accept this a little more too. She is the one who asked about the need for constant I.V. fluids (if I can use my mouth, why do you need to give me fluid through my vein?) When the nurse didn’t connect the I.V. after her 10 p.m. antibiotic treatment yesterday, she pressed the button and said, “Let’s ask her, mommy. They’re here to help us – it’s their job.” Turns out they need to flush the I.V. with saline after the antibiotic is administered. She had a shot yesterday and didn’t cry. She actually calmed herself down, closed her eyes and got through it in a matter of seconds.
If I could protect her from the incredibly rough battle she has ahead of her, I would. I’d trade places with her in a heartbeat (another cliche – but I totally mean it). I know she’ll have to get stronger and be a lot more mature than any 11-year-old should need to be, but I also know that’s what’s going to get her through this. She’s my warrior.