Advent Day 2

Today I am remembering waking up in the hospital. I'm remembering an RN that sat quietly at the end of my bed, doing her charting. I'm remembering a quiet woman who talked to me about faith, picked up my bible, and spent some of her time reading to me from the Psalms, in the wee small hours of the night. I am remembering being able to rest easy in her voice.

I am remembering the discovery that my doctor did his rounds at 6 am, and I am remembering the same doctor coming back to talk to me at 8 that night.

I am remembering another ultrasound where I asked, no begged, the tech to not be so quiet. It had been the quiet and grim determination from the tech the day before that had frightened me so.

I am remembering visits and fear, and making a list of things to bring from home. I am remembering the division, would I stay in the hospital, or would Gabriel and I go home and be monitored from there?

I am remembering the sinking feeling that I had stepped on a hamster wheel, and I had no control left, and I just wanted to get off.

Today, today the taste of fear is sharp and heavy in my mouth as I remember.