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Pinwheels and hope and tears in the hospital

The pinwheel display at the hospital entrance makes a bright statement and lighthearted ambiance. I just drove by them last week since we missed the MRI appointment and didn’t know they served a symbolic purpose. But this Thursday we made it on time and were able to see more pinwheels staked in the playground garden from the inside window of the lobby. Once I read the sign, my heart zinged. What a beautiful design for a worthy and lifesaving cause.

At the hospital, things that I worry about outside those doors seem to dissipate. Kids cling to good health and life with hopeful hearts and smiles even in painstakingly difficult situations. There’s unusual peace and kindness. Maybe that’s what happens when all that matters is survival.

I took this picture at 3 p.m. on a drizzly and windy afternoon right as we headed back into the elevator for the parking garage. Ellis and I were dogged tired, famished, and ready to hit the road before afternoon traffic started. Getting the MRI done was supposed to take 2 hours, but the whole process took 4.

My back felt crooked from hours of being Ellis’ cuddle bear and bean bag chair while Ellis got her iv jabs, 4 times, and cheerleader as my torso leaned over the side of the MRI machine with me waving like a maniac, massaging feet, shouting words of support, and standing in an awkward posture so she could see my face from inside the MRI tube.

Her breathing was fast and her hands squirming; I thought she was going to hyperventilate, so I tapped her foot steadily so to pace her breath. I had no idea what I was doing but it felt right. Her tears welled up, some rolled down the sides of her face, and I had no idea this could happen but a pool of tears collected under her eyes. I hurried to the MRI technician’s window and motioned with a tissue if I could wipe her tears. The loud rumble stopped and I got 3 seconds to reach in and dab her face.

It was an overall burdensome experience. Ellis needed to hold her breath during some parts of the scan and stay still throughout. The iv jab took longer than usual since she was dehydrated and her veins weak. It took 4 jabs, the ultrasound machine, and 2 different nurses. They searched for that big
“juicy vein” but cardiac kids have weak veins and special plumbing, so lab work and/or iv are more challenging than for other patients. I renamed the “juicy vein” to “Jane”; got a few laughs from everyone and it’s become our secret hospital lingo. Ok, this is how silly I am. I felt so darn clever with that rewording that I was chuckling to myself every time I thought about it. I know…seriously…I’m 45 and I get a kick of out of this stuff.

She bravely withstood the pain of it all, the discomfort of staying still for the scan, and reluctantly changing into the hospital gown (as opposed to wearing her own clothes as she did even during previous hospitalizations. We’re happy it’s over and now we wait for results. God’s timing is perfect and we trust He’s got our backs.

Lots of times I feel invisible as I work to keep the ball rolling smoothly at home.

“Be strong and courageous for your hard work will be rewarded.”

2 Chronicles 15:7

Australian kid’s show called “Bluey” that we adore to pieces & lessens the hospital blues. Iron oxide infusion for the MRI scan.
Later that evening, back to spunky self. Enjoying a ring pop candy.

Categories: Faith journey Hospital visits Mom lIfe Random Thoughts

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Welcome to my blog! My name is Esther and I'm so happy you are here. I'm an avid nature photographer and a daydreaming thinker. My posts revolve around photos of nature's beauty, homeschooling adventures with my 2 kids, sporadic reflections on my child's heart condition, Bible reading reflections, gardening feats, and other mish mash things. Hopefully you'll leave encouraged, pensive, or smiling at the simple things of life. Thank you for stopping by and hope you'll find some interesting posts to read!

6 replies

    1. Hey you!! Glad the stranger πŸ˜‰ is back to say hello and back to updating us on her blog. Take your time…with a little one I can imagine how full your days are.
      Thanks for the kind comment! She is back, her spunky self and all.
      Have a safe and great weekend and hugs to your little one. πŸ™‚


  1. Incredible to see all those pinwheels and what they represent. I’ve had a donor card for the last 12 years. Glad Ellis is back to her spunky self – she really is growing up in these last few pictures of her.


    1. You notice too?! She is getting noticeably taller and sounding more mature by the day. But when she gets her spunky self going, still a baby.
      Kudos to you for your donor card. It’s a special thing and many lives can be saved. When we were at Stanford in October, it was surprising to notice the hospital helicopters coming in each day. I thought it was a rarity, but we counted an average of 3 a day. Amazing work from professionals!
      Have a great weekend and hope the weather warms up for you. You won’t believe the crazy weather we’ve been having; hot, stormy, chilly, and rainy. I wonder how the recent rains affected our drought.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Yes, even the hair looked different … more grown up … I notice from afar. πŸ™‚ Thank you. I used to give blood all the time until someone could not do the blood draw and I asked for her supervisor as the needle kept falling out of my arm and onto the floor. I was black and blue with bruises for weeks. So I stopped. I passed by a day care center today that had hundreds of blue pinwheels on their lawn to commemorate Autistic Awareness Month.


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