To the Wife of the Neurosurgeon at Primary Children’s Hospital

 

Today makes the five-year anniversary of this tragic experience in our family.  Over the last five years, I have thought often about this woman and this letter I wrote at the time.  I still feel deeply grateful.

To the Wife of the Neurosurgeon at Primary Children’s Hospital,

I have spent the last several days thinking of you almost constantly. I have wondered what you were doing Wednesday night when you got the call that your husband was coming home late again. I have wondered what you were planning for dinner and if you dished him up a plate to warm up when he got home. I have wondered if he missed one of the kids blocking three goals during soccer practice while all the other dads were there cheering for their players. I have wondered if your heart hurt when you tucked the kids into bed at night, and they asked you to send dad in when he got home to give them a kiss.

I have thought of the last several years of your life and wondered just how many plates you have prepared to be reheated and how many bedtimes you’ve done alone. How many times have you consciously smiled so your reply sounded supportive and understanding? How many times have you selfishly wished that people would just stop getting hurt – partially for themselves, but also so that you could have your husband home with the family more?

Wednesday night, we were the reason he was late. It was us. I’m sorry he missed dinner again. I’m sorry that another day went by when he didn’t see his kids. I’m sorry that you were asked to sacrifice again – this time for us. But for you, I am so grateful.

He was in surgery with my 17-year-old sister-in-law, Shannon. She had been in a terrible motorcycle accident and wasn’t wearing her helmet when she was thrown from the bike into the arm of a backhoe. After being life flighted to Primary Children’s, he was the one that repaired the epidural hematoma and craniectomy that saved her life. He was the one who spoke to my father-in-law who was alone at the hospital and scared. He was the one who gave us hope that she might be okay.

And you were at home.

Few people understand the sacrifices you have made for families like ours. The hundred-hour work weeks, the months without a weekend off, the holidays where he was on call again and the countless moments he missed are just a few of the costs associated with his training. There are years and years of accumulated interest on his student loans that have weighed heavy on your mind.  More importantly, there were years and years of missed opportunities and experiences as a family that you will never get back again. Most people cannot comprehend the extent of the sacrifices your family has made so that he could be in a position to operate on Wednesday and save our sweet Shannon’s life.

And for that, we are all grateful.

While there are many of us that are praying that her doctors and nurses will know how to care for her so that she will miraculously make a full recovery, I am also praying for you. I am praying that your family will be strengthened while your husband works long hours. I am praying with gratitude that someone else chose the long hard road and decided to be a surgeon and that his wife was supportive. I am praying that I, too, can always be a supportive, loving, and understanding wife. And I am most earnestly praying that despite the sacrifices that may be required, I will remember that when my husband is operating late, there may be a host of people praying for him to save a precious life and a scared father alone in the waiting room who needs him more than I do.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

One Who Knows