A few of my thoughts.
2:00 a.m. in the hospital is different from 2:00 p.m. None of the hustle and bustle. At least not where we were. Like night and day, you might say (sorry). My son works the graveyard shift in a hospital and he loves the quietness. I loved the fact that I could roam the waiting areas and borrow the magazines for awhile.
It can also be creepy. I only made it through two or three episodes of Walking Dead, but didn't it start something like this?
No zombies. At least none that I saw.
I was up and out of the room a lot the first night. A LOT. Because Dad and I had roomies. Well, one roommate and his wife. Which was fine. We had just spent about nine hours in the Emergency Room ourselves hoping for a room to open up (and the doctor wasn't terribly optimistic that one would). Taylor County Hospital was a hopping place. The flu, presumably, was keeping everyone busy and every room full.
So, I wasn't surprised when our new under-the-weather friend and his wife moved into the room with us. Let me just say. These folks were not good sleepers. They were up and out in the hall about three times. And around 4:00 a.m., they had family members drop by with issues of their own.
I felt bad for them, tho. His prognosis was not good and was going to involve heart surgery. Not his first and not the simplest. Also, I knew from their conversations (those curtain thingies are not sound proof), that money was a problem. We had a few nice conversations as the hours passed. I wished I could have helped them in some way.
One of the things I quickly learned to be thankful for was this little room. The ICU waiting room. We weren't in ICU this time around, but the waiting room was nearby and a perfect place to slip away to when the hospital personnel were doing their things with Dad.
In here, I visited with another worried daughter of a patient, played games on my phone and watched old TV shows. Full House, anyone?
High on my gratitude list was the free coffee available 24 hours a day! I stayed away until around 6:00 each morning, and then took advantage of it all day. And, yep, I became one of those people who roamed around in stocking feet.
And while the ICU waiting room was a nice little escape, I also took some time in the Chapel. I am sure there have been many, many heartfelt prayers sent to God from this sacred place.
This cross graces one wall of the chapel. It is a San Damiano Cross with a painting containing images of Christ's passion, death, resurrection and ascension into glory. It's thematic colors are red and black. Red, the color of Christ's blood which he shed for us, symbolizes God's love. Black is the color of death. A beautiful reminder of our Lord's sacrifice.
During the second day, I was frustrated because I hadn't had foresight to bring a plug for my phone charger and I was nearly out of power. I checked with the hospital staff in case there was one I could borrow, but there wasn't. While I was musing aloud about needing to make a trip to Walmart for one, our roommate gave me an extra one he had and told me to keep it.
Who ended up helping who?
The second night was much quieter. Our new friends checked out and for some reason the other bed remained empty. Nice! I think Dad and I both got a lot more rest.
Still, it was a hospital, after all, so there was blood pressure to check and pulses to take. Medicine to give. So there was a bit of roaming around the second night as well. And while I didn't see any zombies, I found one really scary, frazzled looking - sleep deprived woman. In the mirror.
We were released back into the world on the third day and happy to get home! In the days and nights that followed, I developed a new appreciation for the staff that takes care of Dad at his assisted living. Truly, they show the light and love of Christ.
When your parent is 98 years old, you treasure every day with them. Even in the hospital!
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