It’s probably better that my Mom didn’t let us know that she was having surgery ahead of time. Although I am one who likes to mentally prepare for the majority of things, having to return to Hospital X is not something any amount of time can prepare me for. I’m not alone in this feeling. Lil Sis let out 5-10 minutes of rant for all of the bad memories and unanswered questions around Papa Jim’s death during her drive there. For me, that tragic event was just the first.
Having to visit my mom after her surgery was not the first time I’ve had to return here. The worthless support group my insurance provides was another time in which I physically had to come here. For all of the other interactions, I’ve managed to trek to the next nearest hospital or correspond by fax, phone, and mail. Yes, I paid an extra shipping cost to have Tom’s medical records delivered to my door. I told myself that it was out of convenience when, in reality, it was purely out of avoidance.
Nonetheless, here I am, walking the halls with an unwanted familiarity, and donning my virtual nurse hat in an effort to access memories of perfect strangers’ illness rather than those of my near and dear. It helps to have my Mom needing me to reassure her that the amount of drainage from her wound is normal, and to hold her emesis basin while she tosses her cookies.
Ma’s looking good so I am hopeful that we will leave Hospital X and this experience on a happier note than our last visits.