Don’t try to make life a mathematics problem with yourself in the center and everything coming out equal. When you’re good, bad things can still happen. And if you’re bad, you can still be lucky. ( Barbara Kingsolver, The Poisonwood Bible)
Our flight to Berlin left three hours ago. Since my IV pole and the solution attached would get in the way on a budget flight, I guess this small hospital room will need to provide any current adventure. The standard-issue hospital gown might be slightly distracting as well. The fact that I am ill could also be a travel problem.
As Friday night became Saturday morning an overfull emergency room wasn’t the kind of adventure I had in mind. True, airport hassle may be distressing, but it doesn’t compare to intense pain caught in a continuous cycle. The clock measured each deep poke into the center of my body and back.
I watched the other folk who also waited.
A woman with blood mimicking a single-tone red tie-die covered her belly. Then I noticed her raised hand, the source. Nevertheless, she appeared calm.
Then, there was a woman who wondered about as if aimless. She sat on the side of my chair.
“You can have this chair if you need it,” I told her. “I can move to the other side.” One spot was open.
She barely turned around, and then moved away. Quickly. I sensed something deeper than physical desperation, but couldn’t prove it. I guessed her injury to be bigger than any hospital could fix.
Once my tests determined I needed to be admitted, I waited in my emergency cell until eight in the morning when a room was ready. My husband had wanted to wait with me, but I told him I was safe. He should care for himself. Go home. Rest. Then, he could care for me.
Yes, the pain continued, but my husband’s deep sense of sacrifice buoyed me.
I have some form of pancreatitis—obviously not connected to alcohol use since root beer is the only beer in my experiential vocabulary. No known connections yet. I’m told they may never be found. Sometimes, even the professionals never discover answers.
Today, I deal with much less discomfort, but many more questions. What the heck happened, and why now? Perhaps answers aren’t always what life is about.
This question I can answer, however: When will you be discharged? The answer: today. As early as this afternoon.
From the huge window in my room, I watch as a flock of geese fly through the rain. In V-shaped formation. Undeterred.
True, my original flight plans didn’t work out. Maybe on the next takeoff I will be more prepared. For now, I’m happy simply to return home.
Goodbye, IV line and helpful staff. I’m ready for departure. Hello, ordinary Tuesday.
composite photos of my room, a colorful approach
terrypetersen 