From the doorway of Room 1604 in the children’s ward, Nurse Doris Powers watched the celebration in the reception area a short distance down the hall. A child going home was always a reason to celebrate.
Nurse Doris smiled and waved to some of the parents she had grown to know, all the while keeping a keen eye on the pale little girl lying in the bed a few feet away. Above the bed loomed machines monitoring her vital signs. The readings were not good. The children’s laughter in the lobby faded from Doris’ ears as she focused on her patient. The child lay unconscious, curled in a fetal position.
The celebration was almost over, the eight-year-old honoree whisked away in her wheelchair by her mother as smiling children chattered and waved goodbye. Doris saw right through the smiles on their faces and knew they wished with all their might they were going home too. But few ever did. The nurse’s eyes locked with those of the brown-haired girl in the wheelchair as if thanking each other for sharing the past four months of their lives.
A sound snapped Doris’ attention back to the patient in the bed. It was a sound she had been dreading, a sound she desperately wished she would not hear.
The monitors shrilled.