Hospital, that’s where I’ve been hanging out. My mother’s husband, (that makes him my stepfather, though that’s a word that doesn’t do this wonderful man justice) had an “incident”, blurred vision, loss of equilibrium, that put him in the hospital. It looks like all will be well, but it’s very scary while you’re going through it. Anyone who has been in the situation before knows, it’s hurry up and wait and by the time you get an answer to one question there are three more. It’s hours watching people you love worry and go hungry, they wouldn’t let the poor man have food all day for fear he’d need surgery (luckily no).
But with the waiting and lack of answers you can see it’s because they don’t see his problems as life-threatening, and that alone helps. The emergency ward was crowded, with patient laden gurneys waiting in the hall. One passed with an elderly thin women sitting up, wrinkled black skin stretched over brittle bones, white frizzy hair about her, passed by our door. I was struck by how regally she carried herself, she looked like a queen gazing at her countryside while her serfs wheeled her chariot. Impressive, to be wheeled around by orderlies and still give such an impression.
Now our sweet Les has been admitted, fed well, and will probably be released soon. He is in very good spirits, and we have every reason to believe life will be back to normal quickly.