The Waiting

I wake without good reason in mid afternoon after only about 3 hours sleep. I am fully awake and don't even feel the usual Bendadryl Hangover I should have this early into my sleep. I text everyone I think might be at the hospital with Mom without response. I answer a few work emails, can't get back to sleep, so I shower and call the hospital in my hometown. Mom transferred to my hospital only about 10 min ago. We have equipment to do a procedure not available back home. I get my body and face around, and head to my workplace, once again grateful for the short distance from my driveway to the parking lot. The timing is impeccable. I reach my ER entrance exactly as the ambulance transporting Mom does. She is smiling and making little jokes. Her laugh infectious as always. The heavy doses of narcotics help a little. 

We go to room 416, and things go well. They move more quickly than I'd expected. I'm proud of my colleagues as I quietly observe them. I really don't know how they meet all the demands placed on them and still provide such a caring touch. 

One of my favorite doctors is admitting her. He does an excellent history and exam, and makes sure we understand the plan. I'm proud of Mom for being an excellent historian of her case. It makes me feel reassured and confident that things will go well even when I'm downstairs being a nurse myself later in the evening. But right now I'm not a Nurse. In this moment I am a Daughter, and Dr. Giant Smiles is reviewing the results of Mom's CT scan with us. This mass at the head of her pancreas, he says, is obviously concerning. Does she have any family history of tumors, he wonders. Outwardly I am nodding and stoic. This Daughter's insides are screaming. We didn't know there was a mass. We are just finding out, though I don't bat an eye. He is finding out that my Mom's father died of pancreatic cancer. Very concerning, especially given that information, he adds. 

Yes, Dr. Big Smiles. Very concerning. 

After he walks out, I cry. Then I cut it out, and remind us both that nothing is close to definitive. I am just a surprised Daughter who happens to be a Nurse sometimes. This can be a harrowing position on occasion, the knowing too much. 

First we have to get her thin blood back to a safe level to perform the procedure. Then the procedure will tell the specialist more. Then more waiting for the biopsies. 

Now, on 3 hours sleep in the past 36, I am in the waiting part.

I am home from too many hours in a hospital I love too much, filled with people who need my love so much. 

Now I switch from Nurse back to Daughter. And wait and pray and let myself cry since there is no one to see it. The crying will lead to sleeping. And when I wake there will be more waiting. And more Daughtering. And yet more Nursing. Because we do what we can during all the waiting.