January 22, 2011 - 10:30 PM

Sarah's husband, Levi, arrived around 4 PM.  He took the Dartmouth Coach all the way from South Station in Boston to be with her.  She was a little nervous before he got here as I suppose any woman might be under the circumstances.  Though she looked radiant through much of the day, I imagine that it is really difficult to feel at one's best in a hospital bed.  But, once Levi was at her bedside, it was clear that nothing else mattered too much to either of them.  They had cards and gifts for each other - early, but fitting, valentine's cards.  Levi chose to give Sarah two tickets for a future movie - one for each of them to a movie of Sarah's choice - a simple, but elegant message about life (and pleasure) beyond pain, illness, and hospitals.  Sarah selected a journal titled "Thoughts" in which she hoped that Levi could write down his dreams, and a pen adorned with peace symbols with which to write them - another clear assumption about the future.

Eliza and Stu joined Levi and Sarah for some take out Japanese food in the hospital room, while Seddon and Carl had dinner with Seddon's cousin, Geoffrey and his wife, in Hanover.  There was ever so slight an air of normalcy about these scenarios that seemed to promise (I am not willing to say predict) more to come.

After such a long and mostly positive day, Sarah had trouble tolerating her supper (not the Japanese food, but tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwich - a favorite of hers) and was somewhat restless and uncomfortable when we returned from our dinner out.  Now, everyone has left, and I am alone at Sarah's bedside with her finally asleep for awhile.

Neither Seddon nor I can recall in our entire lives any experience as painful and difficult as this has been.  I know from my work that others have coped with this and more, but it is hard to reflect upon that in the middle of a nightmare.  Our survival and maybe Sarah's has depended upon one or the other of us being strong or alert or sensitive or calming or logical or not too sleep deprived or even able to laugh - sometimes while the other sleeps, cries, rants, or needs comfort.  I have given lectures about the importance of resilience in families in the face of long and short term challenges, and I am familiar with the characteristics of resilient families identified by researchers.  I suppose we are resilient or we would not have been able to cope with this - on the other hand maybe it is simply that we, like most parents, simply do what we have to do for our children - any of them.

One of the resources that we did not have when Sarah was a baby having bowel surgery, heart surgery and bacterial meningitis was her two amazing siblings.  Reed and Eliza have proved themselves to be loyal, loving, resourceful and immensely supportive individuals while juggling very adult complexities in their own lives.  If there are things that can be described as good in this nightmarish experience, one of the most important to me will always be the incredible strength that a family can have facing a challenge together.  We are so fortunate to have that on our side.