Zoie

There's a little girl lying in Loyola Hospital - at least, she was last night when I last heard.  Yesterday this little girl was being watched by someone while her parents were elsewhere - and this someone took her eyes off Zoie long enough for Zoie to wander into a swimming pool.  So as of last night, Zoie was lying in Loyola, breathing on a ventilator, not having the basic physical reactions a person is supposed to have.

What kind of world is this?  Zoie's uncle died four years ago at age 13 of a degenerative disease.

What kind of world is this?

I feel entirely and totally helpless - the way, I'm being told, people felt last year when there was nothing any of us could do to make a difference in what was happening to Jerry.  When Zoie's great-uncle, my buddy Dave, told me last night what had happened, I felt like my entire insides had been hollowed out - and now I'm in this helpless limbo, hoping with every fiber of my being that Zoie pulls through and comes out of this and knowing there is nothing I can do, either to make that happen or to help Dave or his family.

Monday was the first anniversary of Jerry's death.  I did okay, which surprised me.  And then I fell apart in the middle of the work day on Wednesday.  And now I'm feeling pain and fear and wanting so much to hear good news about little Zoie.

What kind of world is this?

Photo above: after the 5K run in Hinsdale last month.  In the front: Zoie and her dad.

Update: someone posted it on Twitter.  Zoie is dead.