That call

A year ago today I got a call from the hospital. I had stayed with Gessner overnight and his father came to the hospital in the morning to take over so that I could get a bit of sleep at home. I went home, showered, and got into bed. Just as I had fallen asleep, my phone rang and it was my father-in-law, saying that Gessner's doctor wanted to talk to me. I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach. Dr. T. wouldn't call and wake me up if it wasn't something serious. And it was a Sunday morning, so again, it had to be something serious. I got up and made my way back to the hospital--a seven miles that I could drive in my sleep.

When I arrived at the hospital the nurse paged Dr. T. to let him know that I was there. Tom and I exchanged pleasantries, both knowing that something bad was happening, but neither wanting to voice it. Perhaps if we didn't say what we were thinking, it wouldn't be true.

Dr. T and one of his interns came to the room and walked Tom and I down a long, long hallway to a "family conference room." It was a small room with mismatched furniture thrown in. A small sofa on one side of the room and a round table with stiff, classroom-style chairs. There was a book shelf with nutrition books and pamphlets, along with plastic replicas of food, likely used to counsel patients on the nutritional components of diabetes. The room was beige and bland, unremarkable in all aspects, but because of what happened next, the image will be forever etched into my memory.

Dr. T motioned for us to sit down, so Tom and I sat in two chairs facing the door. Dr. T and the intern took chairs opposite us. A heavy pause, and then the news. Gessner is not getting better, his kidneys are starting to fail, he cannot remain on the vent for much longer, with each day that passes the chances of him getting off of the vent are smaller. We ask how long. A week at most. I felt like vomiting. I tried to hold back my tears and ask the necessary questions. Dr. T. ended by telling us that he had to go out of town for a conference but that he would be in touch with the new attending and would be back on Tuesday. He assured me that the new attending physician was good would be able to get in touch with him if anything changed.

I thanked Dr. T and the intern for their time and then we walked out of the room, back to Gessner's room. As I walked back into his room I tried to keep my tears in check, not wanting to signal any distress to Gessner if he could tell what was going on. I held his hand and told him I loved him, begging him in my heart to keep fighting.