From the 11/13/2020 newsletter
Her Hospital is Now my School
Sarah Steffen
September comes to a close, and October creeps in.
My body feels it before I even realize it.
Exhaustion.
Grief rising to the surface.
I drive to school in the same direction.
In the same dark dreariness.
Rainy and cold. Bone-chilling.
Just as it was when we bundled up in her room watching the rain come down.
Sitting vigil. Keeping watch throughout the night.
Waiting.
Waiting for an end that was coming.
Now on breaks we stroll through the hospital.
So casually.
So loudly.
Almost too joyfully.
As if it’s forgotten that this is still a hospital and not just our school.
Past the surgical waiting room, where families hold their breath.
Past the cafeteria where my family spent so much time.
Waiting. Resting. Breathing.
I see her room from here and am transported back in time.
I can’t be here. Not this week. Not this time of year.
It’s too tangible.
Too real.
Every day I walk into school,
into the same building.
The same building where my grandmother worked for so many years
to take care of and welcome new, little babies into the world.
And it was here.
Here in the place where she loved to work so much
that she took her last breath.
I am distinctly aware of this.
Every day.
But especially this day.
Her hospital is now my school.
My home too.
And in my heart, I know
this is just how she would want it to be.
Sarah Steffen is a medical student in the MCW-Central Wisconsin Class of 2022.
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