My mom called me via FaceTime once I was out of the Intensive Care Unit and in the hospital room.
I was lying on my bed, the bed tilted to a 45-degree angle. I answered the phone and saw my Mom’s face, half relieved to see me, half frowning her brows in an expression of worry.
Mom: “How are you doing Laurent? We were so worried. It’s not easy for us as we live so far away. What happened exactly?”
Me: “I’m ok mom. You don’t need to worry anymore. Things are ok now. I will soon be out of the hospital.”
Mom: “But what happened? This story is unbelievable. I haven’t been sleeping in the past 2 nights. Your father and I are super worried. Why didn’t the surgeons see what was going on earlier? Since we’ve learned that you had to urgently go back to the operating room, I’ve been so worried. You can’t imagine how tired I am now.”
Her rambling goes on for about 3 minutes. She tells everything she’s been imagining these past three days. I stay silent.
Me: “Mom, I’m ok. I’m here now.”
Mom: “I’m so happy to see you. I wish I could be there with you. You know how much I love you.”
Mom: “But…”
And there goes again my Mom’s brain. Creating her own worry.
With love,
Laurent