The other kind of failure

We had a good kind of failure a few weeks ago, but now we're in the midst of the kind of failure that a parent of a child with a medical device never wants to face.

We've been here before... Sis is on her second pacemaker due to the unexpected failure of her first one 5 years in. It seems weird to say, but when something fails unexpectedly it's so much easier. It fails, you find out, and before you have time to worry or be scared, you're in surgery and the failure is over. 

This one has been more dramatic, more drawn out. For over 6 months, Sis's left implant has been performing intermittently and causing her pain. We've been back and forth to her team. We've been troubleshooting. We've been paying to replace every piece of external equipment. As of Saturday (just weeks shy of 5 years in), it doesn't work at all, so we're heading back to the team for a final integrity test of the internal device this week. 

Decision: ex-plant and re-implant or ex-plant, period? Sis says NO re-implantation on the left side. She's done. She's weary and nervous and angry, and frankly, so am I. I am tired of surgical suites and doctors and decisions. When you get to this situation it really makes you question your past choices. Did I do right by her? Is she right when she points the finger at me and says "If YOU hadn't done this, I wouldn't be going through this." How do I respond when she says "You are not deaf. You just don't get it." Because she's right, I don't get it.

What I do get is her pain, her fear, her worry, her feeling of injustice - probably more than I'll ever be able to communicate to her. All I can do is be a cup she can pour her accusations, tears, frustrations and decisions into. So, if you see me misty-eyed in my office or my car, it's okay, I'm just letting her overflow out of me.