As I sat at her bedside I looked over, realizing she was more than double the size of when this all started. She has now grown breasts, has long flowing hair and yet those same eyes look at me with the familiar look of fear and anxiety. I can see it on her face. I can feel it as well.
It is only an echocardiogram, but it is so much more than an echocardiogram. It is the lingering memories of past procedures that creep up on you and bite you in the ass. One minute I am fine, watching Hairspray with her and the next I have flashed back 5 years, just prior to her relapse when she leaned over, said "Mommy, I don't feel well..." as she began to pass out and vomit all at the same time. I snap myself out of the past to engage in "Good Morning Baltimore" as it bounces off the walls of the dark room. On one screen is John Travolta as a large woman and on the other I can see the beating heart of my one and only daughter. Both images ridiculous in their own right.
I am struck my how much bigger her heart actually looks and as I look more closely I can see the flaps letting the blood flow steadily through from one compartment to another. I try to see the examiner's face as she blocks of sections, saves them and then moves on to another. Emma seems to be fine. Lost in another world, checked out from this one. She was not happy to have to go back to Mass General. In fact, she does not want to be a part of it at all. Don't they understand? We are done with this chapter in our lives...but it almost seems as though they are hanging on...just looking for something that is wrong.
I squeeze her hand and take a deep breath, knowing that she is healthy. Knowing her heart is as strong as a horses. Knowing that there will not be devastating news following this test...unlike so many others. And even though I know all of these things, I also know that the feelings that haunt us live in these walls and that there is just no getting around them. Sure we laugh and joke and remember some of the funny things of the past, but underneath we are both fighting off those smells, faces and reminders that are so far and yet so close at the same time.
As Emma was getting dressed she winced and talked about how much it hurt and how hard the lady was pushing down on her. I had no idea. She has changed in that way. Years ago she would have let out a good screech just to let anyone know she was not happy. I gave her a hug and told her we only had two more things to do before we were outta there! Off the the EKG and then to have her labs drawn.
We left, in the height of Labor Day traffic on a Friday afternoon and as I drove down Storrow Drive I had the same thoughts I always do about how I should have planned something fun to do in the city. Perhaps we could have stayed over. As it was we were supposed to go and do some school shopping for her, but when I looked over I could see the exhaustion all over her face. "Wanna just go hom?" "Yea, let's just go home."
Emma promised herself this time that she was not going to let herself get exhausted from this visit, as I have done so many times in the past, but the truth is that it is what it is. And that is just draining. So we came home, put in a movie and ordered take out in an effort to pass the rest of the day and simply put it to bed!
Speaking of which...that is what I am off to do.
Good Night!
1 comment:
It's hard to revisit and relive those memories. It's great, though, to know that the professionals at that institution care to keep such a close clinical eye on Emma's safety. I can understand mixed feelings of not wanting to revisit but knowing that that "dreadful" place had so much to do with her long life. The emotions would exhaust anybody. I commend you for your fidelity to the cause of your only daughter's health.
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