My Grandniece

Yesterday when I drove to my Neurology appointment, I was also in the general area where my grand niece is. She’s in the Neo-Natal Intensive Care unit for surgery after being born. She was four blocks away from the building I had to be at and I decided to walk. I forgot how long a city block is and I’m really out of shape, so by the time I had gone the four block and walked up and down stairs I was fairly pooped. I at first thought I might not get to see her because there has to be a parent or grandparent there to take you in. Well she had been moved from the NNIC to a special care unit and when I finally found her, they said her mother was there, but not on the floor as the moment. Something to do with lactation. Anyway they let me go and sit by my grand nieces little bed and I did for about fifteen minutes. She was wrapped up with just her little head showing, a head full of fine black hair. A head that had butterfly needles in its scalp and a little gastric tube protruding from her mouth. Even with all of this she looked so innocent and peaceful

This was the first time in decades that I had been around babies and little children that were sick or dying. I admit I didn’t see that many and I concentrated the most on my grandniece, but I did see the parents and relatives of these babies and children. I knew I was one of the massive numbers just in this hospital with probably the same look was on my face. Some of these babies are getting better, like my grandniece, and some are holding their own, but the look of worry is prevalent.

I used to work in hospitals many years ago and I had gotten, I guess you could call it, the hospital attitude. It’s where you know you have to get the job done if the child or adult is going to get better. So you put your emotions on the back burner and get the job done. I could watch surgery, IV’s being started or any of the normal stuff going on in the hospital. It’s been so many years though that now I can’t stand to see it. So a nurse came in to do something and I told her I would leave. She told me not to worry she was just going to remove a butterfly IV from her scalp. I told her in that case that I knew I had to leave. I knew from a peaceful slumber she would probably wake up and be hurting and there would be some blood. I just can’t take those things like I use to.

I left the building to go to my appointment, but as I was leaving I could see that look on all the parents faces. The looks of love, worry, and hope. It’s a look I haven’t seen in awhile, but one I’ve never forgotten.