Only a Double Helix
So my husband, his brother, and I are here at the Univ. of MD Shock Trauma Center because my father-in-law fell last night and apparently fractured some vertebrae in his neck. He is scheduled for surgery around 10 p.m. tonight. From what I understand they are going to put in a bolt to fuse the vertebrae (yuck). The "silver lining" as my brother-in-law put it is that their dad seems to have a full range of movement, no paralysis or anything like that, so it could have been worse. His head and neck are temporarily immobilized in a plastic brace. Dad seems not to be in pain, mostly frustrated at his situation, that he can't have his clothes, a razor, a toothbrush. I should mention that he is 87 years old.
Here they have the strangest, most bureaucratic visiting system I've ever seen in a hospital, and I used to work in a medical/academic library attached to a large hospital. Even though they give you a visitor pass, you still need an escort to visit a patient. If there are too many visitors on the floor for all patients, they restrict visitors, even though the limit is already two to a patient. Come on, it's not like we're all having a party and socializing with each other. For all the money hospitals charge for medical care, they should give a person, especially an older person who has a tendency to get confused, his own private room. (Personally I think our taxes should pay for healthcare and that services should either be free or charged on a sliding scale based on income. And no one should get turned away based on inability to pay, lack of insurance, or pre-existing conditions. Just another card-carrying-bleeding-heart liberal, I guess!)
I don't mind being off work, but would prefer better circumstances. And my brother-in-law is having trouble finding his car in the parking garage (not that I always remember where I park, either). He wanted to get something from his car and we had a nice long constitutional around the garage. When we leave we'll just drive him around in our car until we find his. (And tomorrow we'll take one car.) We imagined walking around the parking garage in endless circles, never exiting, forever lost in the Twilight Zone. The floors are numbered backwards, too--it is an underground parking garage and as you go down the numbers go from 1 to 5 in reverse order. At the very least, it is counter-intuitive.
While I was in college, one time my dad was admitted to Johns Hopkins Hospital. My mother and I met at the hospital, and both parked our cars in the parking garage. I couldn't remember where I parked, and my mother drove me around the parking garage in her car until we found mine. When I recounted the story to my dad, an engineer, he said, "how could you get lost in the parking garage, it's only a double helix." He has long since died, but time has turned an annoyance into a comical memory.
I feel lucky that my 84-year-old mother is physically and mentally vital and that I can go visit her every week. We have dinner, sometimes walk around Wilde Lake, and hang out and play pool. Her schedule is fuller than many people I know. She has an attractive one-bedroom apartment in a retirement community, and can watch sunset every night from her balcony.
I'm hanging out in the lobby while the guys are visiting their dad. I brought my laptop with me to pass the time. (I guess we're all sort of addicted to the internet by now.) Later on tonight I'm looking forward to a hot meal and a beer. May the gods smile on us all.
Update: So "Captain Bill" (as my brother-in-law affectionately calls his dad) came through the surgery with a good prognosis. He appears to be resting as comfortably as possible while sedated and on a breathing tube overnight. We just hope he doesn't wake up too confused from the ordeal of surgery and anesthesia to know where he is and what is going on. Seems as if the next steps are a couple of days recuperating followed by app. 2 weeks of rehab/physical therapy, then home. As my brother-in-law remarked, the surgeons are good and that makes up for the obnoxious staff.
Here they have the strangest, most bureaucratic visiting system I've ever seen in a hospital, and I used to work in a medical/academic library attached to a large hospital. Even though they give you a visitor pass, you still need an escort to visit a patient. If there are too many visitors on the floor for all patients, they restrict visitors, even though the limit is already two to a patient. Come on, it's not like we're all having a party and socializing with each other. For all the money hospitals charge for medical care, they should give a person, especially an older person who has a tendency to get confused, his own private room. (Personally I think our taxes should pay for healthcare and that services should either be free or charged on a sliding scale based on income. And no one should get turned away based on inability to pay, lack of insurance, or pre-existing conditions. Just another card-carrying-bleeding-heart liberal, I guess!)
I don't mind being off work, but would prefer better circumstances. And my brother-in-law is having trouble finding his car in the parking garage (not that I always remember where I park, either). He wanted to get something from his car and we had a nice long constitutional around the garage. When we leave we'll just drive him around in our car until we find his. (And tomorrow we'll take one car.) We imagined walking around the parking garage in endless circles, never exiting, forever lost in the Twilight Zone. The floors are numbered backwards, too--it is an underground parking garage and as you go down the numbers go from 1 to 5 in reverse order. At the very least, it is counter-intuitive.
While I was in college, one time my dad was admitted to Johns Hopkins Hospital. My mother and I met at the hospital, and both parked our cars in the parking garage. I couldn't remember where I parked, and my mother drove me around the parking garage in her car until we found mine. When I recounted the story to my dad, an engineer, he said, "how could you get lost in the parking garage, it's only a double helix." He has long since died, but time has turned an annoyance into a comical memory.
I feel lucky that my 84-year-old mother is physically and mentally vital and that I can go visit her every week. We have dinner, sometimes walk around Wilde Lake, and hang out and play pool. Her schedule is fuller than many people I know. She has an attractive one-bedroom apartment in a retirement community, and can watch sunset every night from her balcony.
I'm hanging out in the lobby while the guys are visiting their dad. I brought my laptop with me to pass the time. (I guess we're all sort of addicted to the internet by now.) Later on tonight I'm looking forward to a hot meal and a beer. May the gods smile on us all.
Update: So "Captain Bill" (as my brother-in-law affectionately calls his dad) came through the surgery with a good prognosis. He appears to be resting as comfortably as possible while sedated and on a breathing tube overnight. We just hope he doesn't wake up too confused from the ordeal of surgery and anesthesia to know where he is and what is going on. Seems as if the next steps are a couple of days recuperating followed by app. 2 weeks of rehab/physical therapy, then home. As my brother-in-law remarked, the surgeons are good and that makes up for the obnoxious staff.