superstorm sandy

Every Thursday I look back at a specific day and time that was spent with my daughter Matilda as she waited for, received, and recovered from a liver transplant. She was in the hospital for 72 days and we remained in NYC until she turned four months old.

October 29th, 2012 - superstorm sandy

There were many moments during our 72 day hospital stay that seemed like dreams, well more like nightmares. Either way, these moments were hazy, unbelievable, and usually strange. On this day, the event that took place affected millions of people.

We watched as the police shut the park down. We watched as people continued to take their dogs for walks. We watched one runner being chased by the park patrol. We watched the wind blow leaves from trees, and we watched the rain pour down on our window.

And of course, we kept telling ourselves that this, a hospital, was the safest place we could be if something were to go horribly wrong.

My heart thumped.

What if they get the call right now, during the storm, that a liver is waiting for Matilda? What if they have to turn it down because of the circumstances? What if the hospital is flooded with trauma patients and something with Matilda gets overlooked? What if this is the end?

My heart raced.

This was scary. Matilda's life had been out of our hands for some time, but all of a sudden it felt like it was out of everyone's hands. Her life was in His hands. It always had been. Control is this thing we like to think we have, but in reality it is a joke. We never have control. We only have the choice to move forward with grace or kick and scream like a child.

We all have moments where kicking and screaming is necessary. Sometimes it feels good. But I was tired. And fear was racing though me. I slept.

When I woke up and looked out the window, everything seemed the same. But news of explosions and floods were being reported and, biggest of all, NYU Hospital was being evacuated to Mount Sinai. How could everything look so peaceful and calm outside my window, while causing chaos just down the road?

My heart pounded.

What if the coin was flipped and we were evacuating to another hospital? They didn't move Matilda for procedures because it was too risky, she was too unstable. But, what if there wasn't a choice? Would she make it? What were those parents thinking and feeling as their hospital went black and began filling with water?

All of a sudden nothing seemed safe. Hospital or not, nothing seemed safe. I held Matilda's hand and prayed for those babies, those children, and those in most need. This wasn't about us anymore.

My heart simply ached.

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