How does Shakespeare put it? "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players..."
The other night I get a text from my senior that "Little Miss is having a panic attack, can you pls check it out." It is close to midnight, and for the most part things should be settling down, but I go to investigate.
I walk into Little Miss's room and stop in my tracks at the scene in front of me. Now granted, family members can be overwhelming from time to time, but this was a bit beyond excessive. Little Miss is lying in her bed with not just mom and dad, but seven adults plastered at her side. All of them wide awake, and all of them jumping at any little movement or sound that our Little Miss is making.
I am informed that Little Miss is getting feelings of tremblings inside and they cause her to cry. I am further informed that it is because of the morphine she was given. She has never had morphine before, but her father is allergic to morphine, and so she is too.
Eventually one of them does step aside so I can approach the Little Miss myself. She lets go of whomever was at her right side to take my outstreached hand with her right hand. She is calm, skin is dry and warm, pulse is regular, breathing is regular. At one point, in the midst of our short exchange, she moves her left hand, and someone frantically points out that she has moved and "it's going to happen again." And... I am reassured. Our Little Miss is just fine. I have simply entered into the midst of a grand theatrical. Our Little Miss, the Star, playing to her captive audience. I stand up again quickly deciding to go ahead and play along. Without much ado, I finish playing my role, followed by a quick exit to stage left.
Much Love.
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