Day 383 Room 2

About 3 years ago, a 5 year old was brought into my hospital and placed in our Pediatric Intensive Care Unit. He was very sick, so he was placed in an isolation room (reserved for highly contagious/immuno-compromised patients).

He eventually died in that very room. 

...and years later, they say he still haunts it.

"There's got to be a reason for it." Aiden, a coworker insists.

"No, I'm telling you," Meg, an ICU nurse who's worked in that same room replies. "Weird stuff happens there."

And she tells us...stories. Stories of cold chills rising from nowhere, of messages written on misted surfaces, of booming, bass-like voices asking questions... when no one else is in the room... or at least no one can speak. And we're severely excited.

There's a PICU nurse on our floor, so we call her over. She laughs when we tell her to tell us more ghost stories. But she grabs a rocker anyway and pulls it to the center of the room and I can't help but feel that we need a campfire and some smores. She tells us more and more stories, of kids complaining, "I don't like that little boy in this room," "He just stands there and stares at me." She goes on to tell us of a mother who stayed in that room, who "saw" spirits.

"She said she saw children in the hospital." The PICU nurse says with a shiver. "They'd come to her and ask them to pray for them so they could go to heaven...but that boy in room two, she said he was a bad soul."

...apparently bad enough to want to keep making friends with every child that stays in that room.

(Aiden and I will take a field trip in the middle of the night, opting to abandon our babies [for like 3 minutes in the presence of other nurses] to go ghost-hunting. We will fail, but hope to find the ghost there one day...)