Privacy
The morning came on bright and sunny. JoAnn wandered into the dining hall with the kids in tow. They all looked rested and happy and well. I got them started on hot chocolate and corn flakes and then it was eight so I went up to see Nanette. She's stable and quiet. An unremarkable night. When I held her hand, she opened her eyes a bit and I think she winked at me. The on-call doctor listened to her tummy and her chest and prescribed a daily goal of "no changes - let's have a boring day." Sounds good to me.
I glanced over toward Ducky 3, where we met Rose and Derek and their little girl Audrey. Audrey left at 7 yesterday morning for major heart surgery. Rose said that normally the doctor would wait till Audrey was 3 or 4 months old before trying to fix the valves and holes in her heart, but her infant lungs were collapsing, forcing the surgery immediately. With JoAnn under the weather and because of my own exaustion, I didn't get to check back with Derek and Rose yesterday. But my heart lifted when I saw the wheels of an incubator peeking out from under the curtain at Ducky 3. I turned to the nurse and said, "It looks like Audrey is back."
The nurse glanced over her shoulder.
"Oh, no," she said. "That's a new baby. She won't be back here again."
What does that mean - 'she won't be back here again...'? Is there somewhere else that babies go after major surgery?
I couldn't ask. Partly because I know that the nurses have to follow the privacy laws. I know HIPPA; I was working in the health care field when the law passed. But as a freelance writer, I usually ask anyway. I'm curious. I want details. I am compelled to share, to inform. Maybe one of the reasons we feel so isolated nowadays is because we don't share enough. We don't share our stories. We don't share how we feel. We are a nation of private lives.
But maybe I didn't ask because I just didn't want to know.
Babies come and go in the NICU. That's the way it is. It's just a fractal of our lives out in the "real world." We are all here for a short time, like shadows, and life is a struggle. And in that struggle, we share a few moments of happiness. We meet friends, and then we travel again.
Audrey stays in my heart. She may be gone from the Ducky 3, but her spirit still infuses the NICU, just like the spirits of all the babies that have come before. It is a spiritual place.
Nanette rests. Silus improves. Ana struggles.
And Audrey?
She won't be back here again.
I glanced over toward Ducky 3, where we met Rose and Derek and their little girl Audrey. Audrey left at 7 yesterday morning for major heart surgery. Rose said that normally the doctor would wait till Audrey was 3 or 4 months old before trying to fix the valves and holes in her heart, but her infant lungs were collapsing, forcing the surgery immediately. With JoAnn under the weather and because of my own exaustion, I didn't get to check back with Derek and Rose yesterday. But my heart lifted when I saw the wheels of an incubator peeking out from under the curtain at Ducky 3. I turned to the nurse and said, "It looks like Audrey is back."
The nurse glanced over her shoulder.
"Oh, no," she said. "That's a new baby. She won't be back here again."
What does that mean - 'she won't be back here again...'? Is there somewhere else that babies go after major surgery?
I couldn't ask. Partly because I know that the nurses have to follow the privacy laws. I know HIPPA; I was working in the health care field when the law passed. But as a freelance writer, I usually ask anyway. I'm curious. I want details. I am compelled to share, to inform. Maybe one of the reasons we feel so isolated nowadays is because we don't share enough. We don't share our stories. We don't share how we feel. We are a nation of private lives.
But maybe I didn't ask because I just didn't want to know.
Babies come and go in the NICU. That's the way it is. It's just a fractal of our lives out in the "real world." We are all here for a short time, like shadows, and life is a struggle. And in that struggle, we share a few moments of happiness. We meet friends, and then we travel again.
Audrey stays in my heart. She may be gone from the Ducky 3, but her spirit still infuses the NICU, just like the spirits of all the babies that have come before. It is a spiritual place.
Nanette rests. Silus improves. Ana struggles.
And Audrey?
She won't be back here again.
posted by Joe Cooke @ 4/30/2006 08:49:00 AM
7 Comments:
At 11:03 AM, April 30, 2006,
christina said…
Jo ~
Remember that sunny fall day at Wal-Mart when I saw you in the busy parking lot with people hurrying in and out? Just tons of people hurrying about with life’s seemingly boring routines. I too was in a hurry not paying attention but for a different reason, I was too filled with worry about my sweet boy. I was in a hurry to find more answers, do more research, schedule more doctor appointments. I was in a hurry to find the best care, find the best answers to my son’s problems, find and hope for the best. I wasn’t focused on anything but my son’s uncertain journey at that time. My eyes were filled with tears from Worry. I was tired from Worry, and I was painfully thin from Worry. My whole life at that point was Worry. Worry had nearly worn me down to nothing. Do you remember how you must have also been in a hurry that day, but you took the time to stop me and to care? Do you remember how you took the time to make sure that I was ok? Do you remember that warm, fall day in the Wal-Mart parking lot with people hurrying in and out? I do, I remember like it was yesterday. You stopped life’s seemingly hurried, busy routines to stop and care. You took the time to listen to my pain, to my Worry. And you noticed how filled with Worry I had become, and then I will never forget how you told me to wait a minute. You raced to your car in that busy Wal-Mart parking lot and you gave me a beautiful, perfect sack. Inside that seemingly perfect sack, in that busy Wal-Mart parking lot were the most perfect cookies I ever layed my eyes on. Perfect. Remember how you were insistent that I eat one or all? You were insistent that I take that perfect bag of those perfect little cookies. And I did. I ate those perfect little yummy cookies that JoAnn had baked. I just want you to know that I remember. I remember you stopping. And caring. Something that you may not know about that day in the parking lot was that I was in so much pain with Worry that I didn’t think that I could take a moment more of Worry’s pain. Worry had become my constant companion. Worry had nearly destroyed me. Joann’s perfect, delicious cookies filled me. They filled my tired, painfully thin, and worried body. I just want you to know that the day you stopped and cared, it gave me the hope and strength to continue the journey that was in God’s plans. Now with life’s peaks and valleys, it is my turn to stop and care.
At 10:24 PM, April 30, 2006,
amelia said…
I love reading your posts--unfortunately, I've come down with a case of "too much work, too little time" and I haven't been able to read the blog in several days! Arghh and I was freaked out when my mom just casually mentioned Nanette's second surgery...so, of course, I managed to talk myself into staying up late tonight so I could get some stuff done for bio and, of course, read the blog. It makes me sad to think of all of the unfortunate things going on for the poor babies--but I have faith that it will get better, or (at least) it will go the way it's supposed to go.
At 10:22 AM, May 01, 2006,
Candy said…
Joe,
I can answer the "she won't be back here again" for you. After babies have heart surgery they get recovered up in the PICU on third floor, and then stay there. You may be able to find your new friends up there. So sorry to read of the 2nd surgery for Nanette. Thinking of you, Candy(Lamar and Tracys friend)
At 5:04 PM, May 01, 2006,
Sheila said…
JoAnn and Joe, Know you are all still in our prayers and thoughts.
Take care and may God comfort you and give you strength.
With love,
Sheila
At 6:11 PM, May 01, 2006,
Anonymous said…
Our thoughts are with Nanette and your entire family.
Jen & Thom Bolduc
At 6:56 PM, May 01, 2006,
Yvonne said…
Hi Jo and JoAnn --- I've been gone for the past few days camping in God's creation on the Olympic Peninsula (we had very little rain, Hurrah!). All of you were in my prayers as I looked at the majestic trees and the roaring ocean, the greedy crows and the soaring eagles. When I got back this morning, Judy M mentioned a second surgery so I have now caught up.
I am so grateful for NICU's! They were just starting when I was in medical school and what can be done now is nothing short of a miracle.
Thank you for sharing and all of you will continue to be in my prayers. Yvonne.
At 6:56 PM, May 01, 2006,
Anonymous said…
Hi Jo and JoAnn --- I've been gone for the past few days camping in God's creation on the Olympic Peninsula (we had very little rain, Hurrah!). All of you were in my prayers as I looked at the majestic trees and the roaring ocean, the greedy crows and the soaring eagles. When I got back this morning, Judy M mentioned a second surgery so I have now caught up.
I am so grateful for NICU's! They were just starting when I was in medical school and what can be done now is nothing short of a miracle.
Thank you for sharing and all of you will continue to be in my prayers. Yvonne.
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