I've told no one of this. When I was 4 yo, I contracted bacterial
meningitis. I was hospitalized for weeks at Barnes' Hospital (St. Louis).
During my stay in isolation, they put an infant in my room with me.
I think the baby also had meningitis. He was in an incubator type
bed across the room. At night, the one nurse, who was the more
abusive to me, told me to call for her if the baby turned blue.
I watched the baby and when any nurse came in, I frantically
asked if the baby was okay - I didn't know what turning blue meant.
After a time - I don't know if it was hours or days after the baby arrived-
the baby looked pale. I looked at my own skin and decided that the
baby's skin wasn't blue, so I was scared to call that one nurse.
The infant's skin became a gray color, and I became worried again.
Another nurse came in, looked at the baby and ran out of the room.
Then four nurses, men and women, came in, looked at the baby and
froze. They just stood at the door, and didn't approach the baby.
Finally an older nurse came in and went to him. They called for my
abusive nurse to come immediately. When she arrived and saw the
baby, she charged at me, in my bed, shook me and slapped me.
She screamed at me and said it was my fault that the baby was dead.
She was escorted out of the isolation room. I never saw her again.
I asked the other nurses if it was my fault, and thay said "no, you're
just a little boy". But I've never recovered from this horror. I'm in my
forties now, but still wake up in the middle of the night with this in my
mind. There's nothing a therapist could ever say or do to relieve this,
since I was four when this happened. I suppose that the fever I had in
the hospital also help "burn" this memory in me. In my 4 yo mind, I was
responsible for that child's life. I just don't know, since it's each of our
responsibilties to do the correct thing when called on. If there were a god, where was he when he was needed.