Archive for June, 2012

To Kathleen

How are you feeling today?

It has been two weeks of silence with you and I am not liking it. I admit, I despise seeing kids cry, scream in pain. But at least they get to feel, Kathleen. You, you have been a dormant volcano for days, and I’d rather see you display a little grimace than sense nothing at all.

Seldom do I see patients your age in my ward. But more than that, your disease is also a flaky one. Usually, I come across kids who fell off a tree, who swallowed a P1.00 coin, who caught a flu in school. So what does a 16-year old like you doing in my hospital? Shouldn’t you be in school enjoying the best of your senior year?

T/C SOL (to consider, Space-Occupying Lesion), that’s the admitting diagnosis that I read from your chart. From your CT scan, an infarct was found on your brain that had caused you a temporary loss of consciousness. From the looks of it, they might as well call it a mild stroke. But a stroke on a 16-year old? That’s a strange possibility, but still possible.

I remember your father beginning to exhibit some madness, not at your condition, but to the hospital I’m working at. Yeah, he said some mean things that are unmentionable. They call it frustration, I call it displacement. You know, when you’re so mad at the world you couldn’t blame anyone else so you’d pour it out on the first person who’s in front of you. And well, that person happens to be me.

Thank God for your sane sister! She keeps your dad calm, and takes good care of you when I’m busy tending to other patients. She’s only 18 but I admire her strength. I’ve learned your mother couldn’t come home because of the ongoing war in Syria, so your sister took the maternal role instead. And yes, she’s pretty good at it. Looking at her makes me wish I have a sister too.

On a frightful night shift Kathleen, you were displaying some odd behavior. You spoke in different tongue, you were restless, you were febrile. Your father thinks you were being possessed by some evil spirit. If I know nothing about medical world, I may have believed him. But I knew better, so I put up your side-rails to keep you from falling and injected an anti-pyretic drug hoping it’ll keep you afebrile and asleep the entire night.

In the succeeding days I noticed some improvements with your behavior. Well, you’re still asleep but most significantly, you are no longer restless. And your starting to show some movements with your body which is a good sign. I just hope one day you’ll be able to open your eyes and share stories with your sister again. I’m sure she misses you, so get well.

And I have some yearnings for you too. I want you to regain the weight you lost because you are simply beautiful. I want you to attend your JS Prom because it’ll be your last. I want you to know how good it feels to graduate high school. These are just a few but you have to see for yourself what life has in store for you. So please, open your eyes Kathleen. Don’t give up on me or your sister, because we won’t be giving up on you. I promise.

Sincerely yours,

Your Pedia Nurse.

Note: As of this moment (June 12, 2012), Kathleen is now transferred in the  intensive care unit. On a night shift where I wasn’t on duty, her vitals started diminishing and needed vigilant monitoring. She is now in comatose. Her mother finally made it, so thank God for allowing her to come home at the time when her children needed her most.

Please, if it’s not too much to ask, offer a prayer for Kathleen.


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