All I saw were tiny feet.
A juxtaposed image of tiny feet on a too large hospital gurney being wheeled down the halls of the children’s emergency ward.
A hospital gurney being pushed by a nurse who looked fresh from college, and a young mother, clutching a colorful bookbag, belonging to the tiny feet covered by a blue baby blanket.
Tiny feet that belonged to a tiny human, an infant, a baby. A baby with a breathing tube in it’s nose. A tiny nose belonging to a tiny human with tiny feet that was in the emergency ward at the children’s hospital at midnight… just like I was.
I’d been at the ER for seven hours. I’d come for suspected appendicitis. I’d received an IV for severe dehydration, and on the way to receive my x-ray, I walked past those tiny feet.
Tiny feet that couldn’t walk yet. Tiny feet that belonged to a tiny nose, belonging to someone with tiny eyes that were closed - all too peaceful, almost normal - except for that image etched in my brain of those tiny feet hooked up to the IV like I was, hooked up to a breathing tube, receiving an artificial breath helping those tiny lungs succeed.
And a sob escaped my lips before I could control myself.
Here I was, seventeen, in the emergency room as a “high risk” patient because of my recently diagnosed lupus, my arthritis, my fibromyalgia, my celiac disease. I was sent directly to the children’s hospital in the off-chance that I was admitted, and I spent so often crying that evening, from self-pity and fear.
I’d walk down those halls on the way to my x-ray with my IV in hand, with so much despair.. but I’d passed those tiny feet.
Those tiny feet that are etched into my mind.
Tiny feet that are hooked up to tubes. Tiny feet that haven’t had a chance to live yet. Tiny feet with tiny dreams and a tiny heart that haven’t had the opportunity to thrive yet.
I’ve spent so much time pondering those tiny feet and wondering why that baby was hindered in that way, I’ve spent so much time wondering why that baby hasn’t been given the chance to live yet.
And it makes me think.
It makes me think about how lucky I am to be seventeen.
It makes me think about how lucky I am to be struggling with chronic illnesses in my joints.
It makes me think about how lucky I am to be breathing easy.
It makes me think about how lucky I am to be alive.
I have been struggling a lot lately about my lupus. It still is something that completely defeats me. And being in the ER on Saturday, gave me a scary preview of what could be in my lifetime. That realization hit me like a ton of bricks, and I moped as I walked along with my IV attached to me, and then I saw those tiny feet.
Those tiny feet that have given me a wake-up call. Those tiny feet that have reminded me that even when I’m sick, I’m not the sickest.
And by all means, I understand that I am not the healthiest. I know that I am not even close to being a normal teenager, but at the same time, I’m not the sickest. I’m not suffering the most. I am okay, I am really okay.
It’s difficult to put it into perspective. I cannot describe the amount of guilt that washed over me when I realized that I was in the emergency room for dehydration, while children were fighting for their lives in the same corridor. I felt so pathetic. I am so pathetic.
The x-ray technician had to run because there was a trauma case that came in, and I have been so guilty ever since. I am so wrong. I have wronged so many people in my pity party.
I know that I feel so sick, and I am so sick. Who I am, is a teenager with lupus and celiac disease. I am the “bless your heart” comment I received in the urgent care when listing off my diseases. I am this little girl who has an equivalent amount of struggles as someone twice my senior.
But what I am not?
Tiny feet with breathing tubes in it’s tiny nose.
I am so much luckier than I think I am. I am so much more blessed. I could be worse off. I need to stay true to who I am, and I need to stay strong. I need to stay brave. I am so alive, and I need to live like it’s real.
Because these big feet are made for walking. These big feet are made for living a good life that those tiny feet may never get the chance to.
And that’s how I need to live my life.
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