Silent tears

I have told this story to others so many times that now my recall of all the details is instantaneous.


We had traveled almost a 100 km to the nearest hospital in Katowice. Natalia’s blood tests had so alarmed the doctors in Warsaw that they had told us to make our way to a hospital immediately. We arrived and were taken aback by the sleek modern building. It was gorgeous unlike the hospitals I was accustomed to seeing. It inspired confidence.

Darek had called ahead and asked for the consultation. After he described the symptoms and gave the names of the two doctors that had recommended we take Natalia to a hospital we were given the green light to bring Natalia straight to their care. A place would be waiting for her.

When we arrived at the hematology clinic we were told that we would have to wait until a bed became available. While we waited Natalia had her blood work taken again. They had trouble find a vein. It was if all her veins had withdrawn in fear of what was to come. I watched her grimace and start to softly cry as the nurses poked her with needles in various places to find a place to draw blood. She cried but she remained calm. It was heartbreaking to see her eyes pleading for help and knowing that there was nothing I could do to take her pain away. All I could do was stay beside her hold her hand and let her know that she was not alone.

A room became available. We were ushered into a room where there were two other small children with their parents. There was hardly any room to hold us all. Each bed had an adjacent night table but not much room for more. Overnight hospital rules permitted one parent to stay with their child. The addition of sleeping mattresses made the small room seem even more enclosed.

I recall in perfect detail to this day one of those children who shared the room with us. Her name was Basia. Her father slept under her bed on mattress. She was so pretty. I asked myself why I found her so arresting. It was not her individual features but more the sum of the parts and the way she absolutely glowed. She was in a great deal of pain but remained stoic. For some reason I wondered how there could be people in this word who took pleasure in other people’s pain. It was impossible for me to fathom as my heart melted for this little girl and for my daughter, the trials they had to endure at such a tender age. It did not seem right. However, I drew inspiration from her and her strength in the face of such adversity.

Natalia would suffer in a terrible away after each bout of chemotherapy. Despite the alarming levels of her blood work the doctor at the hospital wanted to hold off with the transfusion for a little longer.

Chemotherapy was a weapon that depended on margins. Though the drugs would ravage Natalia’s body they were designed to be harder on the cancer cells than normal cells. A transfusion to restore normal levels had to be delayed so that the maximum level of stress would be exerted on the cancer cells. Too soon with a transfusion and the fear would be that it would also restore the cancer cells. It was a terrible proposition to bear because it would mean holding off a transfusion for as long as Natalia could bear. Day by day her blood-work became worse. I quickly became familiar with the normal values for each of the values of her blood tests.

Natalia’s condition continued to deteriorate. In her present state she was vulnerable to infection so she was moved into the isolation ward. Overnight I lay beside her on a bed and watched her when a nurse came in and told us that she would be receiving a transfusion. She told me that it was imperative that I watch her temperature during the transfusion. If it went over 38 degrees Celsius the transfusion would have to be stopped. My heart jumped. I was so nervous. Later I would be able to manage the transfusions without any nerves, but this was my first time alone and I felt lost. The responsibility overwhelmed me. What if I made a mistake?