Saturday, July 17, 2010
I hate hospitals.
(I hate them even more when when people I know are in them.)
I joined my father as he went to visit one of the many father figures he had growing up, Uncle Boxy. Walking down the corridors, I got this weird chill. The last time I was in a hospital, I was with my ex going to get some free grub from the cafeteria (he worked there and so did the RN he cheated with). The time before that, I believe I was waking up from surgery. The time before that, I witnessed my Nana die in my hand. As you can see, my hospital memory inventory is not the greatest. I feel like you only go there if something is wrong. And it seems like they make the hallway decor as dingy and depressing as possible to prepare you for the wrongness you are about to experience.
I think what makes me most uncomfortable is the image distortion. As soon as you cross the threshold of the room, you are forced to have your last memory of the person you're visiting disrupted. Somehow, as your mind grapples with the reality before you, you have to muster up a smile and say "Hey!" as if you're at their house for dinner. I'm never quite prepared for it. (EVER.)
Uncle Boxy and I weren't super close but we were cool, you know?
My last memory of him was living and loving life with some brown alcoholic beverage in-hand in the basement. Now I was seeing him in a hospital gown with tubes in his nose, bruises on his face, and an inability to sit up or clear his throat on his own to speak audibly. It made me emotional and I didn't want to cry but the image fukks with my sense of justice. My go-to of "It's not fair!" was silently screaming and I stuffed it down as far as I could. I never let a single tear fall, but I was screaming though.
Perhaps it will take a happy occasion to rid me of this soured relationship with hospitals. Good things DO happen there although they don't always seem pretty. People get fixed, lives are saved, babies are born. The idea of childbirth doesn't exactly turn me on, but maybe that's the occasion to break the spell?
Or maybe I'll just have to learn to accept Life as it happens...
...and not just the happy parts.
(R.I.P. Roland "Boxy" Ingram. 10/2/1931- 7/24/2010)
Joi, I loved your blog, your spirit and your truth. It is so frustrating because we are at the mercy of the doctors and with me being so far away I wish I could be there for him as well as my brother and mother. But it is moments like this where I have to lean on my faith and trust in God to see us all through this.Post a Comment