Tomorrow, I will walk back in time.
Through those sterile corridors, the memories will flood back.
They will seep through my skin like waves lapping upon the shore.
A woman, bent on her knees beside the hospital bed, praying fervently, asking God to save her husband’s life. The flickering lights outside of the rooms. The alarms beeping every time someone’s heart paused or beat an abnormal rhythm. The time my confused patient almost pulled my arm off. Watching the final attempts to save a life, as a heart surgeon manually squeezed the patient’s heart between the palm of his hand. The awful dread that spread over me when they announced the ‘time of death.’ Countless lessons I learned as a nursing student, to equip me for life after school.
This time, it’s different. I’m on the other side.
We will walk those halls, our minds in a fog, our hearts heavy. We will fidget and wrestle in uncomfortable waiting room chairs. The room will probably be filled with magazines and books, and maybe even a TV playing mindless noise and news.
We will be waiting. Waiting to see if Ba will be okay.
Praying because no matter what happens, God is God, and I am not.
May I rest in His sovereignty and providence.