The walk to Dragonflies Children's Ward was long and painful. I desperately wanted to see how Lucy was doing, but I couldn't believe what she'd done to herself.
The ward itself was bright and cheerful. Although it was late, some of the older children played games in the centre tables whilst younger ones slept peacefully in their beds and cots. It was clear what some of the children were in hospital for, but others not so much. I saw a young girl nursing a newborn baby and I remembered visiting a young girl from a school a few years back who had had a baby girl at the age of 16 and was admitted to this ward after the birth.
We found Lucy's bed easily and sat by her side. She looked peaceful and calm. Her wounds had been bandaged and she was breathing independently from her oxygen mask as a monitor on her finger monitored her heartbeat. Every so often a blood pressure cuff would pump up, and decrease again.
We sat for a while with her, barely talking, but hoping she would wake up. A 3 year old boy was in the bed next to her, and he woke and asked if I could read him a story to help him go to sleep again. I done as he asked, all the while hoping Lucy would speak to us.
We left at 10pm. Lucy hadn't even opened her eyes.