DOT 40 : DESPAIR

Daniel (7+ years old) 

Tuesday, November 12, 2002

At the doors of the ICU, the doctor punched in a security code. The right door swung open, and we walked in. 

Mom brought her hands up to hug herself. Whether she was cold from anticipation or the freezingly-low temperature of the ICU, she could not ascertain. 

We walked past several bays, each separated by individual curtains to ensure the privacy of the patients. 

The doctor stopped by the last bay. Dad and Mom had a big smile ready and we could not wait to see You.

The doctor slid the curtains open. 

Totally unprepared by what we saw, Dad’s smile instantly faded, and Mom recoiled in horror. Her hands went up to cup her mouth as she reacted with shock. 

Waves of terror vibrated through every cell of her body as her mind grasped frantically at straws, trying to make sense of the frightening sight in front of her. 

The doctor had slipped diplomatically away. 

Grabbing Dad’s elbow in a frantic clutch, she swayed as the floor seemed to shift beneath her feet. Fighting back tears that pricked her eyes, she let out a whimper of utter despair.

Oh - My - God …

 

 In a bike shop during our USA trip ...