Sitting at my brother’s bedside.
Sitting in another hospital, another relative is sick. In this case, my brother had various pieces of internal plumbing reconnected. (They were disco’d in the spring urgent surgery to clear a blockage and remove a tumor.) So this is, in a weird way, a good thing. Naturally, this surgery hurts more, and though it went well (only 1.5 hours!) the recovery looks pretty awful. This is not merely my opinion, at least one doctor and a nurse have both said that things look a teensy bit higher on the pain-scale than expected. But he’s gotta be doin’ good by any standards: temp’s good, pulse a tad high, (so’s the pain, no surprise) and the massive excruciating abdominal spasms are fewer. Ok, now onto me, since it IS my blog. I’m having a bit of “the freakies” (I told K’s brother P) at being in the hospital again. Intellectually, I have to remind myself that as a VISITOR, this is not a bad thing. It is, however, wearing. This hospital is a LOT nicer than the other one, even this slightly older area is gorgeous compared to the place K spent her last days in. Now dear reader, let me scale that for you. K’s hospital was functional, albeit old and perhaps a little less well cared for. All her needs were met, I think no risks were suffered, but it was just a little...plain. (Linoleum floors, a very narrow color-contrast pallette, not bad windows, terrible elevators, pretty limited food service. By contrast, this place has—and we’re talking the medium-old wing of this hospital—wooden, contrasting floors, a much more challenging palette, and carpeting under the “oculus” nursing station. This might be only temporary, I recall my room in this same hospital—not far from here—was a double, and a little more plain, but still. Even my room beat K’s for serenity by style. Hey, I’m and architecture fan, ok? Oh, and my mom’s room for hip-surgery, was f-in’ PHENOMENAL. Plus elevators that make the vertical commute (at least on weekends) rather painless, and food service 24x7 (if you’ll eat McD’s) and it’s not a bad place to visit. Still, watching him try to scream—a horse, whisper at best—is not helping me much. But telling you, even the anonymous one, about it is a bit of a relief. “Pain shared is lessened; happiness shared is increased” Spider Robinson. Thanks for listening, and as I said in an FB post when K reached the end of her care: Go hug someone today, and make a point of telling someone you love them, because we’re all just a tiny amount of ATP and calcium ions from being dirt. And don’t worry about D, he’s going to be fine. Painful recovery, but recovery nonetheless.