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A single drop of water incomprehensibly dropped into water and trills across the empty space. An echoing quiet, yet deceiving. Like wind constantly buffeting the mouth of a stone cave I realize I hear a constant hum. The ventilation system. I am brought back to those rooms 100, 200, 300, 400, 500 nights. Every night constant sounds, a little fridge ticking on and off, the beeps of the heart rate monitor, the alarm of air in the line, the regular clicking of the syringe on the IV pump. And always, that constant hum of ventilation, strangely bringing comfort, making space for sleep, a buffer against the monotony and the terror of cancer treatment and my little girl laying small in that mechanical bed, rising and falling of her chest. I tried to curl myself into sleep, to pretend that pullout couch really is a bed, knowing that tears can slice into sleep and always, always there are the labs that will await me in the morning.

5 responses »

  1. Dearest Jai, I’m glad to hear from you despite the continued sadness. I’ve been thinking of you, and Gayle and I continue to pray for you often. Just today on my way home from church I put a card in the mail to you. Wish I had grand words to ease your pain, but I pray. I know that our God has much more than grand words to comfort you and give you his peace.

    Love you,
    Betty

  2. Jai,

    My name is Lisa, I am a reader here and am signed up through emails.
    I recently graduated with my B.S.W.
    I want to let you know how much your writings and words have meant to me.
    I offer no false parabola of sentiment, only that your words do reach an actual living breathing
    Soul.

  3. Jai,

    My name is Lisa, I am a reader here and am signed up through emails.
    I recently graduated with my B.S.W.
    I want to let you know how much your writings and words have meant to me.
    I offer no false parabola of sentiment, only that your words do reach an actual living breathing
    Soul.

  4. My dad is 101 and suffered a major GI bleed and subsequent heart attack. He came home yesterday after a 2 week stay moving from the ER to ICU to Telemetry, and now hospice. My 2 sisters spent most of the time 24/7 with him, and know the sounds and worries of which you speak. We never fully understand life’s mysteries, but accepting “unknowing” the mystics say is the way we move to peace while the pain remains . March 6 would have been Allistaire’s ninth birthday, but now her bright spirit is part of eternity with our Father and Lord, and the Comforter….. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X7SvBtJuh3Y

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