Watching and Waiting: All That I Can Do Now

“Watching and waiting is hard,” said Bertha, a woman in her mid-fifties, sitting in the waiting room of the hospital. She was on the verge of tears, as a young woman in a dark suit approached her.

“Isn’t it?”

The young woman nodded her head.

“Hi Bertha, I’m Michelle. I’ll be your social worker.”

Walter, Bertha’s eighty-five year old husband, admitted after suffering a major stroke had not regained consciousness.

“How is Walter doing?”

Michelle sat down beside Bertha.

“Not good,” replied Bertha. “I know the doctors are doing whatever they can. I don’t want to lose him!” 

“I'm so sorry.”

“It's going to be difficult,” replied Bertha. “I had no idea I might get into this kind of a scenario when I married Walter. I realized he was older than I was, but didn't think that mattered. We were so much in love.”

"It’ll be hard for you,” said Michelle. “Do you have family?”

“Yes. My children will do what is right by both of us, as well as with respect to our grandchildren, but there's so much more that they could have done,” said Bertha. “If only they had helped Walter more. He was doing too much. I helped him whenever I could. He was outside shoveling snow.”

“Bertha, life happens,” said Michelle. “Try not to blame yourself. You are the one who found him?”

Bertha nodded.

“He'd only been alone for a few minutes. I'd gone inside to make a pot of coffee. When he didn't come in, I went out to see where he was. I called 911, as soon as I found him and then tried to do CPR.”

“Now, it’s a waiting game,” said Michelle. “Can I call someone?”

“No, thanks, I have already phoned them and they are on their way here,” said Bertha. “Watching and waiting is all that I can do now.”

“I’ll watch and wait with you then, until they arrive,” Michelle offered, graciously.