Continuation of when Johnny nearly died after suffering a seizure. He managed to survive, but he was a very sick little boy for a while. He was seven years old at the time of this incident.
We waited for the doctor to come to speak with us about Johnny. We were all feeling plenty scared, and we really didn't know what was going on or if he was still alive. For all we knew, Johnny could have been dead by now--or possibly dying.
Soon, Dr. Emmons came up to where we were sitting. He looked tired, but he also looked relieved; it seemed that the worst of the crisis was overwith.
He said we could go on and visit Johnny, who was now resting comfortably in the Pediatric Intensive Care unit. He said he was presently in serious condition, and that he would probably remain in the PICU for a few days as a means of observation, in case he should happen to develop some unexprected problems, with his health already being so delicate and all.
We tentetively made our way to the Intensive Care area, and we soon found the room where Johnny was in. He was in Room #1345, and he was in the first bed, nearest the door. He lay there, hooked up to monitoring equipment and tubes, and his skin shone pale in the harsh light. He was sleeping heavily, as an effect from the drugs, and the monitoring equipment hummed and beeped every few seconds. A respirator tube snaked from his mouth, and his little arms and legs were pinned down to the bed, to keep him from pulling out his tubes. He looked more dead than alive, but we could see his little chest heaving up and down; and that brought a sense of relief to us, as we knew that he was very much alive. He was very sick at the moment, but at least, he was ALIVE.
Mom went on over to where Johnny was, and she gently started stroking his forehead with her hand; and she gently started talking to him, as though he could hear her. She was saying to him that we were there, visiting him, and that he was in the hospital, but he was going to be okay. She had tears in her eyes as she looked at her little boy, and I had tears in my eyes, too. I was so sure that Johnny was going to die, but at the same time, I was glad, very glad, that he was alive and managed to survive this latest health crisis.
I suddenly got good and mad. It didn't seem fair that a little boy like Johnny had to suffer when other little boys didn't have to worry about things like seizures, weakened muscles, or things like wheelchairs, braces, or forearm crutches. It didn't seem fair that Johnny's mother carried the defective gene and passed it on to her second son, dooming his life forever; and because of it, Johnny was slowly dying of an incurable disease that had very little in the way of treatment options. I hated Johnny because he was making me worry unnecessarily, and I hated this terrible thing he had to live with called muscular dystrophy.
Tears burned my eyes as I looked at my little brother lying there in the bed, unaware of what was going on or what was happening to him, and I wished that he would die so he wouldn't have to suffer any more. His suffering was starting to wear thin on all of us, and I was tired of all the fear I had to live with each and every day.
(((ohhhh, karen))) you ripped my heart out with this one...
"...i suddenly got good and mad. it didn't seem fair that a little boy like johnny had to suffer when other little boys didn't have to worry about things like seizures, weakened muscles, or things like wheelchairs, braces, or forearm crutches....i hated johnny because he was making me worry unnecessarily, and i hated this terrible thing he had to live with called muscular dystrophy..." WOW
*tearstearstears*
well done...
(((HUGS))) and love to all little boys and girls that suffer...and to you, for being their voice...
A poignant story about letting go of a narcissist in your life. Have you ever been attacked FULL force by a narcissist? It's the closest thing to being stabbed over and over in the back.
