The ambulance drive felt like an eternity.
Wyatt was on oxygen and the mask was making him a little crazy. The sweet EMT somehow rigged the mask to make him more comfortable. Then his nose kept running, so we were rummaging around for tissues. I finally found some in my purse.
I so wanted to talk to Wyatt and hold his hand, but I was in the front, he was in the back. And there was a lot of equipment between us.
The driver was sweet and did her best to stir up conversation to make the drive go by a little faster.
As we approached the hospital, I didn’t know what to expect. It was late, now past midnight. The streets were deserted. And it wasn’t exactly easy to get into the hospital. We had to find someone to unlock a door for us. Luckily that only took a minute or two.
I knew Brooks was there, he just had to find us. He ended up meeting us at the room. The room where we would spend the next few days, our last precious days with Wyatt. The room where Wyatt would die.
We would be taken into the room and be greeted by a doctor. He had been waiting for us. A CT scan would be ordered (I think). I went with Wyatt where they slid him into the machine. He was still so good. He felt so bad, but he did what he was told. And he didn’t seem scared. Though I’m sure he was.
As the images came up on the screen, it looked like something had completely filled Wyatt’s right lung. It looked worse than the X-ray at the ER. We would find out that his chest cavity was filled with fluid and had collapsed his right lung. He would need a chest tube the next day to drain the fluid.
I took this picture once we were able to settle Wyatt for the night. We would be waiting for the surgeon in the morning to put in a chest tube. I still couldn’t really fathom what that was or what that meant.
I was happy that he was sleeping, seemingly peacefully. But inside, the monster was still raging against his little body. A monster that we still didn’t know was there.
It was a long night, watching him sleep. Holding his hand, touching him, watching him breathe.
It broke my heart to see him like this… oxygen mask, heart monitor, hospital bed… And not a thing I could do to fix any of it.