Funk. Slump. Sad. Depressed. Doing the motions. Lost in a moment. Cry. Alone. Together. In Between. Afraid. Missing. Wondering.

All of these, all the time. Yet they are easily and often interrupted by a little boy running around and simply wanting you to play cars with him. We find that there are times when we try to stay busy – probably in some sort of attempt to push aside the thoughts about what happened and just focus on something else for a little while. Then other times we find that it’s ok (if not confusing) to sit inside of those of hardest emotions.

It’s a lot harder of an adjustment than either of us anticipated, going from one world to another so quickly and so thoroughly. There really isn’t any half-way house for these travels. While in the hospital, Ahna and I found a deeper connection to each other than we have ever had prior; and since returning to home/life/Ezra that connection has been a lot harder to come by, and the subsequent feeling of distance has just been something that we have to figure out how to overcome.

The trash gets picked up, the house needs cleaned, the kids play outside, laundry needs done, etc. It seems like everything is supposed to stop and revolve around our grief – but it doesn’t, and sometimes the knowledge that things keep moving along is so in your face that it’s hard to deal with. And that’s when we just step off for a little while.

We have had a bunch of people checking in on us through all sorts of different ways, and we feel so apart of your family that we don’t feel entirely alone on this journey….thank you.

I watch the stars from my window sill
The whole world is moving and I’m standing still – The Weepies

In the hospital, it turns out that there are a lot of little symbols of status or culture. Take for example the lab coat. A early 20th century icon of smarts that has somehow hung on well past it’s usefulness – at least the layman’s perception of that usefulness (although I suppose that there is a place for it in a laboratory while actively participating in some research). Honestly, there are not a lot of people sporting these overgrown pocket protectors, but it is interesting to observe the individuals that walk the halls of the hospital with them on – and there are these odd groups of coats that wander together: talking and walking at high speed without ever stopping. Nobody knows exactly who they are or what they do, or for that matter if they are even real. I can’t figure out if they are just geeky types that don’t care what people think, or people who care way too much what others think.

This post originally was going to just be about the lanyard – and we’ll still get there – but I have to make one more stop on the way to that discussion with a brief note about shoes that the staff wears: Danskos – with a random pair of Sketchers walking about. Clearly they are the most comfortable shoes to do this job in and there are no qualms with it; but if I could make a recommendation to the suits at Dansko, it would be to open employee shops at major hospitals – you’ll make a mint.

Finally on to the lanyards. These things started out as a way to display your employer issued ID cards and soon added security passes, calendars, fact cards, info cards, etc. Then at some point, someone realized that they weren’t just for displaying those things…they were for proudly displaying those things…and they could make a business out of helping people become proud. There are all sorts of these affectionate displays including your alumnus or the college that you cheer for, professional sports teams, ski areas, medical equipment companies, units in the hospital, etc. I can’t blame people for finding places to express their individuality within the world of hospital scrubs and lab coats; but it does make you want to go up to some of these folks and ask what they’re trying to say. I thought about creating one that would say “This Is Just A Lanyard” – but then I realized that would be just the same as all the rest.

PS – I haven’t seen a single one of the NICU staff (doctors or nurses) wearing either the lab coats or the lanyards.

One more note: I tried to find someone that was sporting the trifecta of fashion discussed above for a photo for the blog – and that might be the most elusive of all.

The 10th Annual 36 Hours For Kids is hopping in the main lobby of the hospital right now. We’ve honestly never heard of it, likely because we have never either stepped foot in this hospital prior to Dec 19, nor do we ever listen to the station that hosts the radiothon. Both of those excuses aside, it’s a really cool and useful even that raises money for various needs in the hospital. I know that for example, the south side of the NICU was outfitted with new monitors for each room with money raised from previous year’s efforts. They are broadcasting live for three consecutive days in the lobby and accepting phone, walk-in, and internet donations for the cause.

Here is a link to the web page for the event.

The view from the fourth floor