Lucky me. Caydon waits for me in the waiting room. Only one person can visit at a time. Right now, only Annalisa and me are approved visitors. And our time is limited to fifteen-minute intervals. Nothing can prepare you for what you see when a loved one is in critical condition. The amount of medical devices jutting from his body is overwhelming to look at. There is an oxygen breathing tube down his throat. Another tube is protruding from his neck. He is hooked up to a heart monitor. My heart breaks to look at him. When I was a little girl, I thought my dad was Superman. My dad was made of steel. Looking at him, in this moment, I can only see a beaten down human. Tears roll down my face because now he is a prisoner inside of his body. I pray he doesn’t know what is going on. At the same time, I pray that he knows that I am here. I take a seat by his bedside and take his hand. I don’t say anything at all at first. It’s minutes before I can get my sniffling and heaving under control.
