An Ordinary Day

It was just an ordinary day.  A Thursday.  In April.

Michael had put on some jeans and was putting on a blue t-shirt when I came to say goodbye. I reminded him to put on his Young Actor's outfit and he started to change clothes.  I kissed him goodbye.  Told him I loved him.  Reminded him that he was walking home from school and that I would see him at 2:42.  And left for work.  A typical day. 

I got the call that Michael had passed out at school and that I should come.  I ran out of the office and to my car.  Halfway to the school, I was told to go to the Emergency Room.  I turned around and sped to the hospital.  I made phone calls along the way.  

Stu got there at the same time.

We waited.  We didn't know any additional details.  We had no idea.  It was just an ordinary day.

The ambulance arrived.  The driver got out of the ambulance.  A water bottle fell out of the drivers seat onto the floor.  He left it there.  I asked him if this was Michael in the back.  He didn't know his name.  I asked if it was a 9 year old boy.  He said yes.  Are you his parents?  Yes.  Come with me, he said.  I wanted to see Michael.  I held back.  They are still working on him.  Let them do their jobs, he said.  I followed.

It was just an ordinary day.

We were taken to the back hallway of the ER.  Asked to sit.  I couldn't.  Stu couldn't.  I had already pulled out the insurance cards, the card of Michael's cardiologist, the card identifying the device implanted into Michael's heart.  I was ready.  I wanted to find Michael.  I was certain he was scared.  I wanted to reassure him.  Stu told me to go find him.  I went.  I was greeted by the Victim Advocate of the Sheriff's office.  She escorted me back to the hallway.

The chaplain of the hospital was introduced to us.  I asked him why he was there.  In the movies, a chaplain's arrival was never a good thing.  

We answered questions from doctors, and the sheriff's office.  Stating the facts of Michael's medical history.  Looking for hope in the doctor's faces.  Trying to read between the lines of what was asked and what wasn't.  Not knowing any details.  Asking, pleading to be taken to Michael.  I needed to be by his side.  He needed his mommy.  I needed him.

A doctor came out of the room where Michael was.  He looked angry.  That didn't occur to me until just now.  and he told me the words that no mother should ever hear.  We did everything we could ... but your son didn't make it.

I fell to my knees.  I cried out loud.  I asked to be taken to see my baby.  

 

My whole world was taken away from me.

It was no ordinary day.