Wednesday, 23 November 2011

Meant To Be

It's so easy to be dismissive, so easy to drive along, thinking that this is just going to be yet another one of those calls. A young girl, in her twenties, complaining of the ambulance service's number one call. Abdo pain. Another twenty-something, self-entitled, all-deserving, all-demanding twenty-something who can't be bothered to take any pain killers and like most people, wait for the pain to go away. 

It's so easy just to assume another late night out, another curry gone bad, another Chinese take-away with more after-effects than the alcohol it was meant to be soaking up, another case of food-poisoning victim seeking a non-existent magic cure. 

But with only half a story, it's so easy to be wrong. 

The tear-stained face, the look of real pain, the blood-soaked trousers, the shocked and saddened eyes, tell the other half of the story. 

A story, a history, of broken hearts and shattered dreams, of hopes raised and dashed time and time again. Through sobs and tears, she looks at him, she shrugs, she says We'll try again, neither of them really knowing if they have the strength.

Twenty two weeks, the furthest she'd ever got. But once again, for the fifth time in as many years, it just wasn't meant to be.

11 comments:

Anonymous said...

Sad especially considering that some babies are born at 22 weeks and survive albeit with complications.

LiBallerina said...

Heartbreaking

hilinda said...

Went to a similar call not long ago. One of the most difficult for me to handle.

Anonymous said...

omg poor love
and awfull for you too
hugs
lollipop
xx

Anonymous said...

Unfortunately my wife has gone through this several time and it doesn't get any easier.

Miriam said...

hugs

Anonymous said...

Anon 18.04 - there are very very few that live long at 22 weeks. If they do, it was most likely to be wrong dates and actually nearer 26 weeks. Even with all the modern technology nothing can compensate for tissues that just weren't mature enough to work and the date at which the foetus is viable on its own hasn't changed significantly in many years.

It's very hard and must be utterly soul destroying when you keep trying and it goes wrong again. I lost a couple but have 2 to show for my pains - albeit after not normal pregnancies. I do have to wonder why she wasn't in hospital - but maybe there is no identifiable cause of the repeated spontaneous abortions.

Bless them both.

MSgt B said...

Stopped by to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving.

Sometimes we get to this time of year feeling as though we don't have much to be thankful for. I've spent previous Thanksgiving holidays simply being grateful that I'm the guy still alive and in one piece. You inevitably feel shitty for thinking like that, but it's the way things are sometimes.

Thank you for being the guy that goes out to help hurt and sick people. Thank you for carrying the burden that goes with a job like that, so a guy like me doesn't have to.

Michael Morse said...

I'm glad you showed up, for it is obvious that you understand deeper than some, and know how to handle things with grace.

TAZ THE AMBO said...

We are not paid to have attitude towards our patients, we're paid to help people.

D said...

Having been there far to many times myself I know that feeling: the mixed emotions on seeing the pregnancy test go blue: joy and pain, hope and fear. What will this time be?

We went through it time and time again, with no identifiable problem, but then we were referred to the Recurrent Miscarriage Clinic at St Mary's Hospital in Paddington.

The result a healthy, albeit very premature young girl.

Please please let others know: there are facilities out there that can help. The pain of the loss never goes away: 10 years after the first and I still have a hole in my heart, but the sound of laughter, the sound of children who did make it thanks to the brilliant people at St Marys helps to lift the veil of sadness.

Please please pass the message on.

In the meantime our prayers go to you, and our hearts beat together with yours: incomplete for our loss but stronger for our shared pain and friendship.