A time of brokenness and healing

It's dark, quiet yet not quiet.  The sounds from the IV machine pumping fluids into her delicate arms, the blood pressure cuff measuring every 15 minutes, the things around her legs inflating and deflating making sure she isn't getting a clot, all these sounds coming together to produce a harmony of sorts masking the dead quiet of night. I sit and watch standing my vigil until she awakes, asking me to go home. Two surgeries within 5 days, a broken hip, bruising, staples, sore muscles and frustration with the predicament. Taking out the garbage, such a simple task, in the dead of a winter that is in the process of thawing. Ice, that never melts until the days and nights stay warm all the time. Such simple things coming together in one instance leading to brokenness.  We sit and wait, wait for more IV fluids, wait for pain killers to be administered, wait for the pain killers to start working, we wait for her body to heal, we wait for tests results from the lab, we wait.  Sometimes at this quiet time at night.  Sometimes during the day, sometimes talking, sometimes resting and quiet but we wait.  I am being pulled in different directions, home dealing with life and craziness, and here.  Here is where I am for now, waiting and knowing that it is exactly right.

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