Good night from the ICU

As the sun sets, the visitors go home. The day shift workers make reports to the in-coming overnight staff. The doctors and therapists quietly slip out the back door. The frenzied chaos which encompasses the ICU during the day, lulls to the murmuring of the overnight crew's voices in the hallways. The patient room doors are closed; the blinds are partially lowered on the windows. An eery silence takes hold of the floor.

My room looks down the hallway toward the exit door. It beckons me, calls me during the night. Escape to freedom. Escape to a land free of being poked and prodded, a land in which you can decide when and how long you want to sleep, a land free from machines beeping in the night. I stare longing at that door. How much longer? My mind screams, "I hate hospitals! I hate medicine! How did I get stuck in this mess!?" I measure the hallway. Can I just stroll down the hall and slip out that door? As much as I want to, I doubt I could get very far. With so many machines hooked up to me, by the time I would get all the wires unhooked, someone would be bound to notice the cacophony of machine alarms going off in my room.

I lean back in bed. The obstacle is too great. Besides, once I escape the ICU, how would I get home? I have no money, and do not have a car. I doubt this tired out lady dragging a ventilator behind her would get very far. I quietly watch the seconds on the clock tick away. I know each second is a precious gift from God. But I want to be anywhere but here. My mind drifts back to my mom's conversation. She was telling me about the other folks in the ICU. A woman in her 90's who is unresponsive, an obese man in his 40's struggling to breathe on non-invasive ventilation, and a sedated elderly man. My mom has never seen anyone visit these folks. I wonder if anyone knows or cares they are in the hospital. I bow my head and start praying. Praying for these folks to not be alone. Praying for these folks to know Jesus. Although I may want to be anywhere else in the world, I gratefully pray for all those on this floor and in this hospital. May God grant them a peaceful night. "In peace I will both lie down and sleep, for You alone, O LORD, make me to dwell in safety" (Psalm 4:8).