Recovery

Sometimes I can be a right chowderhead. Reading Wolf Hall has made me crave seeing The Lion in Winter again. It's been years. It's been so long I forgot it starred O'Toole and not Burton. The Old Man liked the idea, too, so I decided to NetFlix it. I have a habit of forgetting to update the queue in time, so I told myself I should take care of it last night. I didn't. I reminded myself I should do it this morning. I didn't. Finally, when I checked in around noon, I saw that the final episodes of Bron/Broen were already winging their way to me. I even texted monshu, since there was still a possibility if he returned the other disk at home, but he'd already left for the hospital.

Then on the way to lunch, it struck me: I work in a library. A library that loans videos. A library for an institution with a film studies programme. What are the chances they have one of the most beloved films of the last fifty years? After getting back, I wasted no time in checking it out. At first I thought I'd surprise the GWO with it, but I couldn't wait to show it to him.

Of course, to do that, I had to find him first. He'd left IR a little late and Ambulatory was closing early, so they couldn't send him there. The receptionist didn't know that and sent me there anyway. There's no reception desk up there, so I finally figured out I'd have to call. The nurse politely took my number and told me Recovery would have to call me before I could go in. I couldn't wait. I went down to IR and asked; I'd just missed them. But AJ--the nurse who'd been so sweet during the previous procedure--volunteered to take me there if I could wait a few minutes.

On the way up, she told me about her daughter, who'd been a typical materialistic rebellious teenager until a serious auto accident earlier in the year. She escaped with a broken leg; I didn't ask about anyone else. "She completely changed," AJ told me. Now when it comes to owning the latest electronic gadgets "she tells me, 'Ma, that's not important'." She's on a baking tear right now. "How much chocolate does one house need?" I imagine monshu has a definite opinion about that.

monshu was happily finishing up his lunch when we found him. He was one of only three patients on the ward. (The place has an eerily half-deserted feel at times.) One of them, curiously, had been put directly next to him. She was a feisty elderly woman from Belize. I chatted with her to keep her company. When I say "chatted", I mean mostly I nodded politely while a torrent of Godtalk poured out of her. (That's my good deed for the day; too bad there's no one up there to keep score.)

Fortunately they released monshu early (which is to say, at the time they'd originally expected to before his procedure got delayed an hour). Down at Main Reception, the woman who'd been on duty the first day we came was working. We must've bonded that day, because she came out from behind the desk to give me a hug. The angry woman has stopped calling them at last--but only because she crossed the line into threats and they promised to take legal action. "But now I've got another one," she told me. I wanted details but she preferred to talk about her extended weekend, half of which she'd spent sleeping.

Despite visiting Nuphy for months on end, I never became as chummy with the staff there as I have in three scant weeks at this place. Of course, this time, knowing how valuable it is to have the staff on your side, I set out to charm them. Whether or not it's paid off in better care, it's made a world of difference in my attitude. I actually like going there now and I'm disappointed when I don't run into the people I know. At the same time, I'm happy to take a break for a while.