Friday, February 24, 2023


Dear Sonzee, 

Yesterday when your siblings came home from school they excitedly put on rollerblades and went skating. Your little brother just got his first pair on Wednesday, so it was day two for him. They all kept rollerblading into the house which was making me insane and sent them all back outside. I was filling out camp forms and I swear your twin girl had just been told for the umpteenth time to get back outside when I heard her screaming for aba. I ran outside as I heard aba scream back "what happened". I don't know what I expected or thought, but I know a flash of panic over your brother being hit by a car came into my mind. I got outside and aba was rolling Laeya down the street supporting her underarms and saying she broke her arm. I know I asked, "why can't she skate?" The answer was "I don't know". I swear it felt like it all happened in 30 seconds or less despite how much happened. 

A few phone calls later and our support system was fully in place. Meena was going to her gymnastics private and someone else was going to pick her up, Noam was off to one of his besties, aba was off to hockey with Tzvi and I was on Laeya to PCH urgent care duty. Morah Zupnick and I were playing the game of beating the urgent care posted times. We won. They said 30 min when we got there and we were seen within 15 minutes and were sent on our way to the PCH ER within an hour. It was between the time they explained her wrist fracture and displacement and us waiting for them to call the hospital to let them know we were on our way that I realized I was going to have to walk through the sliding doors at 1919 E Thomas Road. 

I don't remember the exact date of the last time I walked through those doors. I don't even remember what month it was. Like riding a bike, I drove to the familiar exit and I made a right, a left, and a right to find a parking spot right in front of the ER. She was assigned an orange folder, that was always what you got. I know there are more urgent cases besides a displaced fractured wrist, but they felt because of our time at urgent care we should have a "fast pass" to triage. We were in a room within an hour. I visited the same Starbucks I had visited so many times at night before it closed, but the coffee tasted gross. It didn't matter, another coffee was soon to be on its way to me, also with a hot chocolate for your sister when she would wake up from the sedation. 

The halls look the same. It is hard to believe it's been 3.5-4 years since I was there. It is hard to believe I didn't know anyone, and no one knew about you. I am not a frequent flyer anymore. (Well, except for the ortho department). The tv channels are the same, the movies were also. We watched inside out and Laeya had her amazing laugh. She, much like you had horrible veins and it took a blown vein and multiple people to get an iv into her hand. I referenced you a few times, but I didn't want to make this about you, or me. I put on my Sonzee bear brave face. Your sister was a rockstar the entire time. 

For the procedure, they moved us to one of the trauma bays, you know, just in case. I had a mild inner panic attack over the rare complications. I wanted to vomit with the number of times the doctor said it was unlikely. (so was CDKL5). I didn't say that aloud, but my inner thoughts screamed it too many times. I couldn't sit still, but with your sister finally calm and her blood pressure finally normal I was outwardly composed. Thankfully you never were in the trauma bay she was taken to. After they gave her the sedation they took me to the waiting room. I reminded myself she was going to be okay. I played in my mind the potential chaos that could occur while being afraid of hearing a code being called. (It turns out she only paused her breathing for a few quick seconds and with oxygen her levels rose right back up)

The worst part of the night was after they set her arm and had to do an x-ray. I was standing against the wall in the hallway when a hysterical woman walked by, followed by a few other members of her family. Staring straight. Holding a box. I recognized the cries. I recognized the lost look. I saw the father a few steps behind. He held a blanket, smelled the drops of blood and walked to the sliding doors. I took a few breaths, forcing myself to not run to any of them to wrap my arms around them and cry with them. I wanted to scream that I understood their cries. I remained still. I walked back into the room when I was allowed and paced some more. I did my usual make small talk and asked the nurse how often that happens. She said, "not often, about two times a month." I thought to myself, two times too many. Your sister asked what I was talking about, and I didn't answer. She said, oh you can't say. The nurse then said, "something that hopefully you or mother never have to know". I said, "well, I had a daughter, she had a sister, it didn't happen here, but on hospice...and I really wanted to go and hug that mom". The nurse spoke her sympathies to me and I swallowed my tears and emotions. Your sister was adorable and funny. The nurses and doctors loved her. 

I won't ask why it all had to happen last night. I will try not to wonder why out of the two times a month, one of those had to be the same exact time that I was in the hospital. I am too emotionally exhausted to wonder what the purpose of last night's events was. I thank you for watching over your sister and giving me an ounce of your strength to keep myself together for her. I miss you. I love you. 

Until next time. 

Love always,

The Mighty Contributor

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