“He’s going to be alright.”
As the tears continue to flow down my cheeks, these words hold little comfort.
The young man laying beside me, hooked up to countless machines, is my son.
I feel an arm around me. Someone’s comforting me.
I hear voices.
Someone’s talking to me.
I smile and nod, but the tears continue to flow and I pray another silent prayer.
It all seems a blur now. An indescribable nightmare.
His rhythmic breathing, a reminder that prayers are sometimes answered and as he sleeps, I eat. Hospital food has never tasted so good, so comforting.
40levenreasons 
I’m so pleased to hear your son has had a positive outcome. I hope it only continues to improve from here. Best wishes.
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Thank you so much Norah! Onwards and upwards from here hopefully xx
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Wishing your son a full recovery. How sweet that hospital food must have tasted once prayers were answered and rhythmic breathing restored.
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So so right! 🙏
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Deb you have written a powerful flash from that stressful time. All the medical equipment makes it hard to sit and watch a child. I can understand those tears, held in until the right moment and then unstoppable. mother sitting by her son. I have never heard hospital food being described as comfort food but am glad it was for you. So pleased your son is recovering.
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Thank you so much Irene….& yes I wouldn’t have imagined finding such comfort it something as simple as hospital food xxxx
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Strong highlight of how the most uncomfortable things can become comforting. Who would think, right? So glad to know your son is recovering!
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Thank you Lisa xxxxx
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