“Code 111”

The pain experienced in this second year of grief is deep, unexplainable. It’s no longer like the acute pain – the screaming, the audible weeping, the nightmares, the constant panic attacks. It’s now the yearning, the missing, the crying in silence, the reality, the isolation, the forever. I love the toddler years so much and man, am I missing my (would-be) toddler right now.

I’ve also been down and out physically, due to a foot injury last fall. I’ve gone through multiple doctors, multiple treatments, thousands of dollars, and still feeling so unhealthy due to lack of movement and constant pain.

Yesterday, I had foot surgery. I had been so nervous in the weeks leading up to it. I’ve feared that there was no fix for this. I was worried I’d live in more pain than I already do. I was stressing over my activity and ability to get healthy again. I was so uncertain going in to this, but knew I had run out of options.

As I was being wheeled back to the OR suite, we passed a nurses station with a huge dry erase board, filled with many hand-written medical notes. Right in the center of the board was a hand-drawn “bubble” with the phrase “Code 111” written inside. At that moment I smiled and a tear ran down my face. I felt instant calmness and relief. I knew that Norah, my toddler, was right by my side.

I’m happy to say that I’m already pain-free. I know things will improve for me soon and my health will return. Here’s to 2020, with my little “Code 111” standing by.

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