Harder Than I Thought

We’ve been back to the hospital and the Burn Unit that David was treated at before but for some reason last Wednesday’s visit to the BICU brought back a flood of emotions.

It actually began the night before.

Last week we flew into Houston and drove to Galveston Island. We’re working on filming interviews and footage for a documentary we’re making.

When I made the reservations for where we’d stay while we were in Galveston for a few days, I thought it would be a good idea to go back to the condos where I called “home” while David spent nearly 4 months in the burn unit. This would be the space I laid my head at night, after spending most of the day and evening hours in David’s hospital room. This would be the space that our children would come visit on a few occasions when they came to spend time with me. I thought it would be good for our videographer to be able to capture the images of where I stayed all those years ago.

I never imagined that when my head hit the pillow a couple of nights ago that my mind would take me back fifteen years to a time of unrest, anxiety, stress and fear. I had a restless night and my mind began to replay the times our children would come spend a little time with me while their daddy was fighting for his life at a hospital down the road. When I was at the hospital, away from my children, I felt guilty. But on the other hand, when I was away from the hospital trying to take on the role of being Mom, I felt equally guilty. I felt so pulled in different directions. I wished I could be in two places at once.

Last Wednesday morning, we arrived at the BICU and we were reunited with many familiar faces-some of the nurses that treated David originally are still working there fifteen years later. While our videographer began to set up the cameras and lights in the conference room, David and I wandered down to the waiting room. It’s in there that we met two brave women who are in the midst of the struggle. Their loved ones are fighting for their lives down the hall. While talking to these women, I was transported back to the time it was me sitting in there with life in a state of chaos.

These women asked us question after question and shared their heartfelt stories with us. One is a Mom, who’s holding a vigil by her son’s bedside, being his biggest cheerleader. The other is a wife who’s feeling the familiar tug at trying to juggle being a wife and a mom in these circumstances. I tried to encourage them by telling them to take one day at a time. God knows their names and circumstances better than we do. Their fears resonated with me and it suddenly didn’t feel like it’s been fifteen years since it was me sitting in the waiting room, waiting for another update from the doctors and wondering what tomorrow would look like.

Our visit was much harder than I anticipated but I can only pray that David and I were able to offer these families a small glimmer of HOPE. Life does go on and these painful days will become less intense as time passes. I hope you will join me in praying for these two men and their families. They have a long road ahead of them.