Despite It All

Chapter 41

Day +33

Pale skin stretches over the swells of Mia's swollen eyelids, pulled taut over shut eyes. Her once cherubic cheeks are now puffed beyond recognition. Her sweet, tiny lips are composed of dry, cracked skin, the hard plastic of her intubation tube shining under the bright lights of the hospital room. Remnants of dried blood remain under her nostrils, ostensibly staining her porcelain skin—persisting despite the careful, albeit vigorous scrubbing it endured. Her chest rises and falls steadily above her rounded belly, the only visible sign of life. Thick tubes and catheters protrude from her neck, her mouth, her chest, her wrists... each one seemingly more essential than the last.

She's literally plugged into life.

It's humbling, really, to consider how far man-made intervention has come in its ability to prolong life. It's equally humbling to know that not everyone has access to healthcare. Mia—had she been born to a different family in a different part of the world or with different economic circumstances—would have died a long time ago.

So fucked up.

Despite the arguably grim sight, Logan is alight beside me, hope shining brightly in his every expression. His fingers absentmindedly drum down my arm, his head bobbing along to the music that hums through his one headphone.

Mia has been successfully weaned off the ECMO machine for two days now, a promising development. The decision was made in part because her bleeding began to spiral out of control—a known issue that accompanies ECMO due to the required use of heparin to prevent the blood from clotting—and also as a result of a new diagnostic showing her heart function was essentially improving.

The change in her care feels like a real progression, but I am desperately trying to smother the hope that is bubbling in the depths of my gut. Hope is beautiful and inspiring, but it's also dangerous—and I'm afraid I am one breath away from completely shattering under its false promises.

Logan's parents just left from their most recent visit, a fact for which we are grateful. There is something... a little less isolating about others sharing in your trepidation—but, it's challenging to provide comfort to others when you're so full of your own despair. They've come by here and there, obviously trying to balance the fine line between space and support.

Ashley stands next to Mia, writing another heartfelt message on her quilt. Ashley's parents brought a beautiful quilt with empty squares made for writing messages, and everyone of importance has written something to our beloved Mia with fabric markers—except Logan. He said he's not ready, and no one has pushed him.

A soft knock on the door reveals a timid but smiling Sarah, armed with four steaming coffees.

"Hey guys, just stole a moment away from my shift to bring you guys something," Sarah grins.

"Thank you, Sarah! That was so thoughtful," Ashley fusses, taking the drink-carrier from her.

The nurses have been back from the five-day lockout for two days now, and while there is still no union agreement, we are personally relieved that the physical strike is over—I couldn't stand being away from Mia or Logan's side. The union goes back to the bargaining table with the hospital, prepared to negotiate. State laws prevent hospital workers from remaining on strike for long periods of time, as it has a significant impact on public health. However, the possibility of a second strike weighs heavily on everyone involved; it's a real possibility.

So now, nurses are forced to return to work alongside those that verbalized disgust and annoyance with our profession and our right to advocate for our patients and for ourselves. It's one thing to suspect that you aren't appreciated or respected, and it's another thing to have your suspicions validated as fact. The thought of working with these people again makes me physically sick to my stomach.