There's a smell of aging to the visitors of the hospital. A smell of a weakened immune system. The smell of whatever brought them here. Things start to smell a little off when something's not in it's best condition.
I'm alone with this smell. My mother and sister having moved on to the next stage of the hospital. To the place, I assume, she would approach the knife and surgeon from. Only one person could go with her. So I stayed behind.
They gave her little brown socks. Tan, I suppose. With non-slip white pads on the bottom. And strange blue compression sleeves for her legs whose purpose I don't quite understand. Her billowy gown is a pale purple that's almost offensively cheery. It's color doesn't match the fragility of her demeanor as she lays on the gurney waiting to be wheeled away. Thankfully there's less tubes than I imagined.
The chairs in the waiting room are not pretty. I can't date them but they must have been purchased at the very least prior to the 90s. Or the upholstery was. Some of the patterns are very reminiscent of a Cosby sweater. Is it ok to reference a sweater in relation to him now that he's so closely associated with sexual assault? I can't think of what this pattern might be called otherwise. The exposed wood is worn.
I'm once again left behind as they move her to the area she'll wait in until the big event. I accidentally sat under the TV. I was hoping for seclusion as I sit with my separation. The news is near booming.
There's only one bathroom for the 50 people waiting on their loved ones. It smells, but they probably aren't concerned with that in a hospital. They certainly aren't concerned with capacity. They designed it with a handle that was meant to prevent you from flushing with your foot. They couldn't have known I can kick so high.
I'm not sure what about the beef patty on my breakfast bagel supports the audacity of McDonald's calling it steak, but McDonald's is my only option. I don't mind the lie. It's not absolutely disgusting fast food. Although, fast food is absolutely disgusting. I find lately that I can't consume it without being consumed, myself, with regret. Almost as much regret as I feel now for not bringing my cellphone charger.
They announce the family names over a speaker system. When it's our turn the doctor comes to us. "She's doing fine" he says. "She's about to start the next part which will be about another hour, then the doctor will come out to you."
I hope I get to go into the room this time.
People take lunch during a code blue. If TV is any reputable source of information a code blue is someone dying? People walk normally when the announcement is made. TV must not be a reputable source of information. The whole team runs for a code blue. I expected the whole hospital would run.