But I'm getting ahead of myself. When I found out last night that M was there, I texted her grandma to ask if I could visit, and she responded enthusiastically to the offer. So I made arrangements for Brady to have lunch at preschool, and hit the road at about 9:30. As I drove northward, I ruminated over the past; over the many, many times I'd made that very drive to see Logan while he was there. I wondered how it would feel to be back on the 5th floor; the floor where he'd spent so many weeks and months as his treatment protocol was carried out. A place I hadn't been since the last time he was discharged to go home with us three years ago.
But I went. After an unsuccessful effort to visit a friend in another building, I went up to her room. It was quiet and dark and M appeared to be resting, but I quickly learned that she'd just suffered a seizure -- her first ever. So I'd missed the chaos by about five minutes. (Which, incidentally, is how long I took trying to see my friend.) I talked briefly with her grandma, then sat next to M to tell her that Abby said hi and that she'd written her a long letter to read when she felt up to it. She was very out of it and tired, but she nodded.
A few minutes later, as her nurse was trying to give her a cup of medicine, she had another seizure. I hopped out of the way, and stood behind her grandma. And I prayed. I prayed for the Holy Spirit to come down. I assured her grandma that Jesus was present. I rubbed her back and just prayed.
And finally it stopped, and her grandma asked me if I could sit with M while she made some calls. So I did. The nurse turned to me, and said "you know, I think it was Providence that you showed up when you did."
Kind of a funny thing to say, but I think it's true. It was hard to see her in that moment; to see her body betraying her in such an ugly way. But I felt blessed to be there to support both of them. I felt blessed to be so familiar with the hospital that I could be calm. I felt blessed to think that Logan was there, in whatever way possible, trying to help M out (because I think --I really, really think-- that she was in the very first room that he stayed in after his very first admission).
Anyway, the second seizure earned her a ticket to the PICU. The PICU. Where Logan spent his final days on this earth. Where I hadn't been since February 11, 2012. I was a little scared to go. I'd been worried about being on the 5th floor again, where there were happy times and where I can still, on the little theater screen in my mind, see him wearing a pair of Cars pajamas and be-boppin' down the hall with his IV poll in tow and riding around in the little red and yellow car from the play room and making crafts out of pipe cleaner and glitter glue. But I knew I could handle it. I wasn't sure that I could handle the PICU.
But I did. And even though M's spot backed up to the room where Logan spent his last hours, that space didn't own me. It didn't creep me out or make my skin crawl. I didn't freak out or cry hysterically. I sat for a few hours while her grandma got some much-needed time away. And I was okay. Legitimately okay.
I think we all want to know, on some level or another, that we're okay. And I think that those unexpected experiences today proved to me that I'm okay. Life will never be perfect. It will never feel complete without my Sunshine here with me. But it can still be good, and the things that have dogged me in the past don't own my future. And knowing that is one of the biggest blessings of all.
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