Sacrifice

The ward is quiet right now, no babies crying, no machines beeping, and I'm just awaiting the nurse to come in and wake Matthew out of a peaceful sleep, sleeping for the third night in a strange bed because of an inevitable slip.

I always knew Matthew would break an arm someday; I just didn't plan on it being a week before the end of tax season, just before the weekend where I was going to get all caught up and coast into April 30th.  But tax season doesn't really seem to matter anymore; that all went out the window the moment I saw him with an extra elbow where his forearm used to be.

It was a truly gruesome sight - his right hand dangled down and I knew immediately that he had broken through the bones.  X-rays would later confirm my suspicions.  Elizabeth ran screaming down the hallway at the sight and I broke into adrenaline mode - phoned the neighbours to get over there, kept telling Matthew to not move his arm, but for some reason my brain couldn't tell myself to get dressed (this all happened at 930 pm).  Adrenaline does funny things.

We sat in the Devon hospital for a while, and then the doctor said we had to go to the Stollery - and in an ambulance, no less, since they had given Matthew morphine.  The doctors at the Stollery emergency did their best, but the bone was too badly broken to fix manually, and surgery was the only option.

I hope we get to go home tomorrow, but if we don't, I'll stay, for as long as it takes, since Matthew doesn't want to be here alone.  I'll endure the sleepless nights, the noisy roommate, the crying babies, and if work doesn't get done, oh well.  April 30th comes and goes with no real consequences, but a child is forever, and it's my job to take care of him. 

 I would give up my entire career to make sure he's comfortable and unafraid.  He'll always be my baby, even when we're both old and grey.