My brother and sister in law rushed to meet me in the parking lot around midnight after they found out that my daughter had been admitted. A bottle of wine in the back seat purchased on their way there gave me a moment of relaxation. Minutes later I would sneak them in the ICU to see her.
I woke up curled up in a chair to the voice of a nurse: “Mrs. Loor, take this pillow. You’ll sleep better”.
My phone rang in the early hours of that first morning in the hospital. “How you take your coffee?” My new friend asked. “What else do you need? I’m on my way” Friendship is not measured by the time we’ve known each other but by the times we are there for each other. I learned that that day.
My coworkers took turns to meet me in the lobby. A cup of coffee, a card, a note. Their hugs lifted me up in those uncertain hours.
I waited for the rest of my family to come during the five days my child was in the hospital. They never did. Some of my close friends replied with a quick text never to follow up again. The man I dated didn’t find time to visit me. I’d choose never to see him after that.
Meanwhile, I watched my daughter endure her new routine. Her smile warmed up the room as she learned to use the needles that will accompany her for a long time if not the rest of her life. She had no complaints, not even after learning that her dad wouldn’t shorten his vacation to be by her side. Her resilience, her faith, was a ray of light in the darkness I felt.
I learned a lot from that kid that week. I learned to stand on my own and count my own blessings. I learned to appreciate what is given to me and I learned to accept and to let go.
I am always learning from the kid I’m supposed to teach. That’s how lucky I am.