Hospitals are becoming all too familiar to me. The more time I spend in one, the more I realize that every person that is in a hospital doesn’t want to be there.

As I walk in the halls and sit in the waiting rooms, I am constantly watching people. I am constantly wondering what they are in the hospital for. Are they there for a check-up or are they there for something more serious?

The more serious things are what I often watch for.

What always gets me about walking the halls of a hospital is that you constantly run into someone that is having the worst day of their year, and for some, their life.

I have had those walks. Where you are leaving the hospital after an aimless day cooped up in a room, tired beyond belief and confused beyond repair. Those long walks where you don’t know what tomorrow brings, where the future is not so obvious.

Hour after hour during a stay in a hospital, people come in and wish your family the best. Doctors make a 15-minute appearance and nurses come in and try to bring some light-heartedness to the room.

After countless days in the hospital, you find yourself suddenly knowing your way around the aimless hallways and confusing corridors. The same hallways and corridors you got lost in the first day you were there.

You try to listen intently to what everyone is saying so that you can best understand what is happening to your loved one, so you can be prepared to make the tough calls.

It is the prospect of having to make these tough calls that makes hospitals so spirit-draining. Even though doctors seem to know everything, they ultimately leave the hardest decisions up to us mere mortals.

I haven’t had to make a tough call yet in a hospital, and I hope I never have to. I hope that day never comes, but I know it undoubtedly probably will.

The tough calls are never wanted, but often cannot be ignored.

Sometimes though, hospitals provide miracles. They can save lives and can make our future more promising. For all of the hard days, sometimes a hospital can provide you with a glimmer of hope and future possibilities.

My son was born in a hospital, one of the biggest miracles of all. My dad’s arm was repaired by a surgeon after almost getting ripped off. My father-in-law’s thumb was repaired after getting badly cut.

Miracles do happen in hospitals. I probably wouldn’t have my son today if not for modern medicine since my wife’s water broke a month early without contractions. My dad maybe wouldn’t be here today had modern medicine not told those in the ambulance to keep applying pressure. My father-in-law may not still have his thumb if not for a masterful surgeon that made the impossible, possible.

I have faith that miracles like these will continue to happen, whether for my sister or my grandma or anyone else that needs it in the future. With the possibility of a miracle, I still understand that sometimes things don’t go as planned. Sometimes we have to make the tough calls.

It is for these reasons that hospitals are daunting places, but that isn’t anything a little faith and hope can’t fix.

If you would like to sign up to be a bone marrow donor, please go to bethematch.org. The process to sign-up is free and painless, and you may just save a life. My family will also be at the Rita Tranberg Memorial on Saturday at the Blair park registering bone marrow donors free of charge.

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