Day +57: Setting hope
Saturday into Sunday has become my toughest time of the week. It makes me reflect on "the night" when Ramón was feeling indescribably rough, culminating in the early morning loss of airway and subsequent cardiac arrest. It serves as a marker of how long it's been, and we're now officially in week 8. In the early days, this never entered my mind as a possibility. I was somewhat naively but optimistically expecting a call at any hour, letting me know Ramón was awake and asking about me.
As each day passes, I try to remain hopeful. On Wednesday the neurologist reminded me that "it's still early," which is an interesting way to describe the longest, most overwhelming days of my life. But she's right; we knew from the beginning that time would play the biggest role in Ramón's recovery. Sometimes I view the passage of time as one day closer, and other times it's one day deeper into heartache. On April 23, five days in, a dear friend told me, "I will hold onto hope for you while you are too tired." When I find myself struggling, I take comfort knowing that others are holding onto the hope that I have temporarily misplaced.
Tonight I found hope in a breathtaking sunset, and tomorrow I'll aim to keep my heart open to receiving it in any shape or form. The beauty is always there; sometimes it's just hard to detect.