Wednesday, May 09, 2007

All this before 11:00 a.m.

It threatened rain this morning so I took FD to work, almost passed the light and he pointed to make sure I made the turn.

"You should probably close a couple of those windows," he said. He'd been talking and I had been listening, but not 100%.

As I was about to pull into the hospital drive a couple of really, really cute kids blocked my way. They were laughing, maybe singing, surely gesturing in an "I'm Free" (ala the Who song) way. The little girl saw us waiting for them to move past and shouted, something, something, You old people!

Well, that's a matter of perspective. I gave my guy's beard a stroke and dropped him off, headed to Jewel to buy some groceries, and completely forgot something. Didn't remember until I got home.

The flowers.

I wanted to get my aunt a pot of flowers. It's not like I'm a great niece or anything. I don't visit my aunts and uncles in their homes, and they're all retired and I'm sure they'd love a visit now and then. But when they're in the hospital sometimes I get around to visiting.

Anyway, this time around I've visited several times but each time been too lazy to make the stop for flowers . Instead I've left lame notes on the backs of the cards the hospital staff leave, those pre-printed things that say, Welcome to the Hospital, You Lucky Person You! We're so glad you're insured!

So this time I decided to trek back to Jewel and get the plant. After that I dropped off F.D.'s shirts at the cleaners and searched my brain for more things that I'd probably forgotten to do, found nothing and headed off to the hospital.

There are signs up telling us it's Nurses Week! Who knew? Now you do. Anyway, at the elevator a nurse in a pink blouse noticed my flowers.

"Those are pretty," she said.


"I like pink."

"Me, too."

"It's got color, but not too much color. It's pale, but fresh."

I smiled at her. "Very true." We reached my floor and I wished her a good day. (All you nurses out there, thanks for being you!)

I always pause a second before walking into Aunt C.'s room. Even if the door's open I'll do that. Stuck my nose in a bit and could see her bed was there, as was my aunt and her care-taker, Maggie.

"Yo, Aunt C.! How's my beautiful aunt today?" I shout cheerfully. "Hi Maggie."

Aunt C. opens her eyes. Sees me and I could swear I saw a glimmer of a smile on her face. She mumbled something unintelligible, closes her eyes. "She's doing better," Maggie says.

"Auntie, talk to me! What's happening. Why the hell aren't you out of here yet. FD tells me hospitals are for sick people!" Indeed, FD told me last night that if she could possibly go home, she'd be a lot less confused. That might improve the dementia.

She started to explain, in word salad, that she's tired and she really would like to get out of there. Actually, she can only say a couple of words at a time and they don't always make sense. She's short of breath.

"Like the flowers?" I put them in front of her and she nodded.

"You know it's me, right?" I continued. She said my name. Maggie said something to me, I looked up at her, and by the time I looked back at my aunt again, she'd gone back to sleep. She's got a bunch of tubes helping her stay alive, and seems to be up at night. By day time she's wiped out.

"Aunt C.! I've got to go! Listen up. You've got to concentrate on getting better. You're looking MUCH better to me. Get the hell out of here, okay?" Her eyes opened.

"I love you," I said.

"I love you, too."

"Did you hear that?" Maggie asked in amazement. "She said, 'I love you, too.'"

I don't know how it made my aunt feel, but I felt like a million bucks.

Copyright, 2007, therapydoc

1 comment:

Heidi said...

Sweet post. I hope your aunt gets better soon and quick.

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