ANN AWOKE EARLY the next morning, before the sun had risen into the sky. Quickly dressing, she packed her things, and found a washroom to clean up in.
On her way to the nursing station, to find out how Matthew was doing, she became alarmed when she discovered his room empty.
“Where is Matthew Henderson?” she asked a new nurse behind the counter. “He’s supposed to be in that room over there. You were supposed to wake me and let me know what’s going on! Where is he?” her frightened voice rose in volume.
“Please, ma’am. The little boy in room C-12 is in emergency surgery. They just took him a few moments ago. They’re trying to relieve the pressure from his head injury,” she replied quickly. “I was coming to get you, when the phone rang. I’m alone here, for now. Please let me finish my notes - it will only take a second - and I’ll take you to the waiting room near the surgery. Dr. Phillips is on duty this morning. I'll notify his staff where you are,” she continued. “He’ll want to see you when he’s done.”
Ann closed her eyes in misery, collecting herself, nodding her head in agreement. She couldn’t say anything more. That little burst of emotion had spent it all. No fear… no pain… no emotion at all. She was completely drained. She felt dead inside.
Numbly following the nurse to the waiting room, which was empty at that hour of the morning, Ann sat on the couch in the corner.
The nurse picked up the hospital phone, talking into it softly, and then returned to Ann. “I was able to contact Dr. Phillips nurse. He will meet you here, when he gets out of surgery.”
Once again, Ann was alone in the room of waiting. Restlessly, she went over to the windows overlooking the parking lot far below. On the horizon, she watched the night turn into a cold, gray day.
It looks like snow, she thought, as she rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to warm herself from the cold outside. Snowflakes began to drift silently to the earth below. In a while, this dirty, colorful, world will be covered in nothing but pure, white softness. I wish the snow could wipe out all the ugliness in this life, but it’s only snow.
Sighing, she returned to the couch. She tried to look at magazines to keep her mind busy. Glancing up at the clock, it seemed to be frozen in time, like the white world outside. She read the words on the page again, but she couldn’t concentrate on the articles. Laying her magazine down, she stretched, and walked back to the windows. Staring off into space, she thought of her life with all its twists and turns. Eventually, she sat again and became lost in daydream and prayer.
“How’s Matthew doing this morning?” asked Pastor Henry as he entered the room.
“How’s my little Ann?” asked Martha with a warm booming voice, following close behind him.
“Oh, Martha… ” Ann said standing up and falling into her friend’s warm and heartfelt embrace.
Martha’s presence in the room buoyed her spirit, for Martha had the strongest faith she had ever known in anyone. Nothing rocked that woman. She always praised God, no matter what the circumstances, and Martha had experienced some awful situations herself.
In her late sixties, silver-haired, with an ample girth and rosy cheeks, she was someone you loved to hug, and cherish as a precious friend, with the biggest heart in the world. Constantly involving herself in the help and care of others, she was one of the pillars of their little community church, and Ann needed some propping up right now.
Unfolding from her friend’s hug, she told them that Matthew was back in surgery, the swelling had worsened in the night. She sat back down on the couch, Martha next to her, placing her hand over Ann’s.
Dr. Phillips walked into the waiting room, before anyone could say anything more. Walking over to the tiny group with purpose in his steps, Ann jumped to her feet in anticipation.
“Mrs. Henderson?” he asked.
“Yes. How is Matthew?” she asked with her heart fluttering.
“He’s out of surgery and back in his room. Your son is holding his own for now,” he replied. “But, he’s very weak and his body is struggling to survive. We have him in an induced coma to help him rest as much as possible. He is still very critical, Mrs. Henderson. I wish I had better news for you. I’m sorry.”
“Can I see him?” Ann asked softly.
“Not for a while. He needs to be monitored very closely for a time,” he replied. “The floor nurse on duty, Nancy, will keep you informed as the day progresses. Let the nursing station know where you are, if you leave here,” he told her. Tenderly, he offered again, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Henderson,” then he turned, and left to help someone else in need.
Pastor Henry and Martha expressed their regrets at Matthew’s condition. The whole church community was praying for him, she was told.
Stopping they said a prayer for Ann, Marty, and especially Matthew. They prayed that God would bring healing to his small body. Ann hoped with all of her heart that God would grant the desires of their hearts, especially hers.
“I have to leave for a while, to visit Mr. Avery. You remember him, don’t you Ann? His recovering from a stroke, down the hall,” Pastor Henry informed her.
“I remember him. How’s he doing?” she asked.
“He’s frustrated with his paralysis. I won’t be long,” he said as he left the waiting room.
Martha sat next to Ann, talking with her. They conversed about small things, things of no consequence, small talk to take her mind off of Matthew for a while.
Once Martha found out that Ann hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning, she coaxed her into going to the hospital cafeteria. Ann agreed to a cup of coffee and maybe a bagel. It was hard to think about eating.
Ann called and let the nursing station in ICU know where she was going to be.
Walking the polished halls, following the signs, the women noticed the aromas from the cafeteria first, before the cavernous room appeared. Ann’s stomach growled in loud, insistent protests to its neglect.
Maybe I can handle a larger meal, she decided.
Sitting at a small round table with their breakfast, they talked about the church family, the issues of serving the community, and Martha’s children and grandchildren. Distracted for a while, Ann was able to relax a little, but her son was never far from her heart or thoughts.
Revived, refreshed, with a full stomach, and a new cup of coffee, Ann desired to return to the ICU to see if she could sit with Matthew. Talking comfortably, the two women retraced their steps back upstairs.
Ann led the way to the huge double doors that allowed admittance to the ICU. Using the phone on the wall, she called the nursing station.
Nancy answered the phone.
“This is Ann Henderson, Matthew Henderson’s mother. Is it all right if I come in and sit with him for a while?”
“Mrs. Henderson, he’s unconscious right now and he wouldn’t know you’re even here. Why don’t you go home and rest for a while. We’ll call you if there are any changes,” she said gently.
“Please, I just want to be with him. I’ll leave anytime you say,” Ann begged.
“I see that Dr. Phillips is here, checking on him. Let me ask.”
Ann held onto the phone, hoping to be allowed in.
A couple of minutes went by. Then Nancy returned to the phone,” Mrs. Henderson?”
“Yes.”
“The doctor said he’s stable for now. You can stay for a while,” she said. “But you will have to leave when you’re asked,” the nurse informed her.
“Alright, that’s no problem. Thank you,” Ann replied, relieved, hanging up the phone.
The buzzer on the double doors sounded and Ann opened one of the doors.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Ann,” Martha promised. “And don’t you lose hope. God is a great healer and he knows what is best for all of us. Just trust Him, okay?” she boomed.
Ann smiled weakly, but she did love this large woman with the big heart. “God bless you Martha,” she told her with feeling as they hugged affectionately.
Ann stood holding the solid door open as she watched Martha walk away down the hall, already missing her buoyant spirit and friendship.
Ann walked inside and let the door softly shut. Again, Ann felt so alone, as she walked the hall of the ICU.
This place gave her a sense of transition. Every patient here was either going from this life to the next, back to a life that would be different with disabilities, or for some a complete healing. She wondered which one it would be for Matthew.
She could see him in his bed, ever attached to the monitors. She quietly walked to his bedside and gently touching his arm. It was still warm and soft. He looked so ill… so pale… so fragile.
She bowed her head and talked to God again. Who else could she turn to with any hope? She sat in silence to wait for God to intervene, to answer her prayers, to show that He loved her.
* * * *