The hardest part is the waiting

Last Friday night was one of those long, heavy nights.

I brought my son to the hospital around 10 p.m., thinking we’d go in, get him checked, maybe get some meds… and head back home. But it didn’t go like that.

We waited… then they called him for an X-ray. Back to waiting. Then blood work. More waiting. Then a CT scan. Each time, you think “ok, this is the last one,” but it wasn’t. They had seen something on his lungs and wanted to keep investigating.

He had that pain high in his back, like it was coming from his lungs, couldn’t really lie down, and breathing wasn’t easy. Even if they said the air was passing, you could see he wasn’t himself.

I won’t lie — it got scary.















Around 5 a.m., they decided to keep him for more tests. That moment hit differently. They started antibiotics intravenously, and later he saw a pneumologist. She said they would treat him for pneumonia, but also noticed some “spots” on his lungs that need to be followed up. He’ll go back in about a month — they’ll be calling him.

He was able to come home in the afternoon, completely exhausted… and honestly, so was I. I left when they admitted him in the morning, and neither of us got much sleep that night.

Since then, it’s been a mix of relief and worry. He’s really nervous about what comes next, and I get it. I keep telling him this is standard, that doctors often want to recheck after pneumonia… but in my head, it’s not that simple.

It feels like déjà vu. I’ve seen something like this before, and I know how it can turn out… and that thought is hard to push away.

And honestly… how unfair can life be sometimes? He’s not even 40, he’s in shape, and yet here we are. It feels like he’s already had more than his share of hard things.

He doesn’t live with me, but I can’t help wishing he had been close to me when he got out… just so I could keep an eye on him, make sure he’s okay.

For now, we wait… and we try not to let our thoughts run too far ahead.