i hope she knows i love her

the call came while i was driving home this morning at 11.45am after visiting her. i asked the person if they were aware of the court's request/recommendation she was not to be moved until after Christmas and her birthday. "yes, we are aware of it, the doctor is aware of it", the man said. but they were moving her anyway.

"don't let the ambulance leave without me i am following it to the institution so i can be there when she arrives", i said.

i felt my face flush, i raced toward an exit on the freeway and turned around and returned to the hospital. i found my daughter and asked for a side room, and told her "we are having a meeting about the changing of your hospital, it's happening now". she followed me in the room and we sat there and i told her "i won't give up. you don't give up either." earlier, and thankfully she was smiling and ate 2 egg rolls, chocolate milk, and a candy bar.

by 1pm or so the gurney rolled out of the elevator door, and the crew were the ones who brought her there, so they treated her kindly. they drove slowly so i could remain behind her the entire way.
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a long way from home

i saw the stone wall the patients made on one side and the cemetery on the other. my hands gripped the steering wheel.

my head began to pound with an extraordinary headache, an all-encompassing agony washed over my body, i felt ill. the ambulance/admit entrance to the brick institution dated back to 1871 looks like a loading dock. the gurney was rolled into a wired fenced area, and my daughter was on that gurney.
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there is an outdoor patio lined with wrought iron fencing, and the air blew across my face and i took a deep breath, and watched her as she stood there looking through the bars, she reached her hand out into the open air, and she started to sob.
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God, have mercy, compassion. Be with my daughter.

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and me.