My Discovery

I've learned a lot about a hospital. When I was a child and watched a certain soap opera with my grandmother, a person in the show might sneak into the hospital room of their enemy and use a syringe to put an air bubble into an iv line to their demise. So when I'm strapped to an iv, and I see a small air bubble in the line, or if the iv pump starts making a frantic beeping sound with the message "air in iv", I have learned to not panic and know that the soap opera people were just trying to be creative about new ways to kill people, and that I will in fact be okay. I have also learned that the same beeping sound could just mean that the battery is low, and that I need to plug in the machine. I know the sound of a distant vitals machine beeping 4 in a row and that someone forgot to take it off the "auto" mode. I know the sound of the elevator cords screeching near my room, and know that it isn't straining with the load and about to break, that it will screech another day.

What I didn't know concerned a room at the end of the hallway. This room is labeled "Physicians Office" (no apostrophe), and at any time contained 4, 5, 6--I don't know how many brilliant people. There are always docs, nurse practitioners and PAs coming in and out, the great minds solving the medical dilemmas of my hallway. I never walk completely to the end of the hallway even if the door is shut because I don't want to intrude on the privacy of my fellow patients AND because I don't want to hear my name. But, tonight the door was left open and the light was off...so I ventured to the end of the hallway. I couldn't believe what I saw. I made several more laps to sneak more peeks. It was a closet of a space. Somehow, a person who definitely gifted in origami had placed two desks with computers facing each wall, two black rolling stools and an ugly vinyl-covered chair (my own room contains the same) by the door. Every spec of space was utilized--with hooks behind the door for white coats and a light, presumably for xrays, along the top of one desk. THAT'S IT??? I don't know how two people could sit at the desks without their backs touching! You are kidding me. How in the WORLD do all those people fit in there, much less think? It is like a clown car for geniuses. I have a new respect for the medical profession.

Today Van used the GPS on his fancy phone (I knew that thing would have a purpose one day :P) to calculate the official distance of the hallway, only including the distance of the socially acceptable, walkable space. It has a very handy measurement, so we made a little key for the bulletin board in the hallway. By the way, I had calculated this by counting my own steps and estimating how much was in a mile, and had re-calculated it by counting the tiles on the floor, which year's ago, my daddy had taught me the length of and got pretty doggone close. And...drum roll...one lap in the hallway is .05 miles. If one were to walk 40 laps, which one did today (hmmgh, hmmmgh) one would have walked 2 miles. (Not all at once, but still...) Van said that he talked with another patient in the hallway, and she was so excited about the rudimentary chart! With the uncertainty of each day, and the confusion of "which day is it anyway?", it is nice to be able to count on something.

I have a rubber band which came on a roll of ribbon that my mother sent me that I set aside. I feel a little bit like Man vs. Wild by packing such things away just in case they might lead to survival at any point. So, this rubber band is wound around my 1 lb. dumbbells, and when I make one lap, I move it to the next finger, so I don't have to concentrate and can pray for people or think about something less tedious than counting. However, I was not up to walking with the weights at my 8pm walk (the same walk in which I made My Discovery.) On this walk I decided to walk better. I was going to walk briskly, but gracefully. I was going to walk like Clare Huxtable from the Cosby Show, and I did. I saw myself in the double doors at the end of the hallway and was pleased with my efforts. At mid point in the lap, their was a big burly enormous nurse outfitting himself in a precautionary disposable gown, enormous gloves and was holding some contraption that would definitely win a middle school science project. I don't know what he was up to or what the patient was in for, but I was going to give him some space. I cut the lap short and doubled back. He called after me, "I was wondering where you got your turns, but then I remembered that you went to A&M." (Meaning that I looked like someone in the corps of cadets.) So I said, "At least I'm not carrying a tuba." and made the motion of when the band member squats for a turn in a march during halftime. And then, oh, I realized that he might not know about the band part, and I did not feel a bit like Claire Huxtable.

Zane had some snot, so I did not get to see the kids this weekend. I did get to talk to them by phone and by Skype. While talking with Cade via computer, Zane was in the background with giant shorts (probably new hand-me-downs from his cousin) making efforts to thread a six foot rope (thanks, Dad) through the belt loops. He then concentrated on the physics of a rubber ball and a toy car ramp. He finally bounded to the computer when he heard me mention "planning for your brother's birthday". I knew the silly goose was eavesdropping. Fun times. Avi kissed the computer screen for me and then hugged it, and Cade said, "God bless you." first before I could say it. A good day.

Van just sent me a photo of soap. After a long drive back to Waco with the children, and some intense parenting in the afternoon, Zane emerged from our bathroom with a smile, and said, "I got the soap ready for you, Daddy!" 6 soap bars were unwrapped and neatly placed in our shower ready to go with the wrappers on the floor in the bathroom. I'm proud of my husband for smiling back, thanking him, and peacefully putting the child to bed.