Waiting for Any Information

Those first weeks at Moffitt we waited and held our breath.  Every time the door to Mathew’s hospital room opened I wondered, is this the person with an answer, a plan of action, hope.

Most of the time it was housekeeping, a nurse, or lunch. 

I know the desperation we felt waiting for someone to come through the door. Someone who was going to make a difference.

I wondered if the nurse, the housekeeper or the techs that occasionally came around to inventory equipment recognized that look on our faces for what it was, or did they just think it was a common look that settled on the faces of those who spent days on end in a hospital room. Did they feel something was expected of them, something they couldn’t provide?

The hours would pass as we cared for Mathew or watched him sleep feeling we were racing against time, racing while sitting still, waiting for the right person to come through that door.

Then, a doctor would come in. Sometimes a group of doctors. To look at Mathew, check his status and occasionally have some news. More information and we would feel like we had some forward movement, some hope. 

Then, they would leave and the waiting would continue.