Where days and nights merge

Coming to work last evening, I walked through a set of double doors that open out to the ICU elevator bank. Though I never saw his face, I saw him there with his back to me- shoulders slumped, orange "caregiver" badge slung back, toothbrush and toothpaste in his back pocket. He was intently texting somebody, waiting for the elevator doors to open. I'm sure he was headed up to one of the "sleeper rooms" where parents pretend to get some rest. I imagine it's a fitful sleep, not wanting to sleep so deeply that they might miss the pager's call, beckoning them back to their child's room.

Sometimes we get glimpses of life just outside of the busy, crowded ICU rooms. And often its heartbreaking.