Pain and comfort...

They changed the trach. They put in a new one that has a speaking valve in it. It was more difficult than I thought it would be. First it was physically traumatic to him. He was sedated when they put the first one it, and "awake" when they put this one in. For the first hours after the change, when he would swallow or cough, a look of pain and discomfort would cross his face. It was good to see yet hard to watch. We have been dreaming of communication, yet the first sounds, the ones of pain, have been hard to hear. It broke my heart to watch him cough and then contort his face in pain, while hearing the almost primitive moan coming from him. I put the rail down on his bed and crawled up by his head to hold him, to reassure him, to comfort him....and myself. It is hard to see someone so strong, in such a vulnerable position. It is gut wrenching to see his pain, bewilderment, confusion and to feel so helpless. It is so hard to witness, yet oddly comforting as well. Comforting in the sense of feeling a connection. An emotional connection on the most basic level. In that moment, no matter how painful, we are together. He needs comfort and I can give it. He takes it, responds to it. I sit there holding him, stroking his head, tears streaming down my face, and in that moment we are one. We are only that moment. It leaves me raw, depleated, and exhausted. It also gives me hope.