This is meant to be a related piece to "15 things to do in your dad's hospital room," "15 Things You Find in Your Dad's Hospice Room," and "15 Things You Find When You Clean Out Your Dad’s Apartment".
- The Christmas lights at the nurse's station that should really have been switched for saccharine cupids by now
- What team decided to hang up a clearly labeled DRAFT safety sign
- Who comes up with the aliases they seem to use for trauma patients and how they decided on Redstone for your dad
- That his skin either looks like a bruised elephant or like sickeningly conflicting colors of thin paper mache
- Where you can possibly get food--you're shaky
- The patient in the ER somewhere with a lot of ammo, but no gun, or so they say
- Why the staff is being so happily loud and swearing...it feels discordant
- The used bandaid and gauze that are left on the floor of his ER room as he moves to his hospital room...the last proof he was there
- Having to do this again for your mother who, for now, supportively sits beside you and her ex-husband
- Which doctor or nurse you'll forget the name of next even though your mother told you to remember
- When the woman next door will calm down enough to stop thinking someone wants to kill her
- If you have time to lie down--you can't keep processing what you're seeing anymore
- How you'll ever forget him, eyes closed, calling out for help when you think he knows you're there
- Whether you'll eventually only remember him like this
- The number of hospital stays he has left
(Prompt by me)
Comments
Post a Comment