Hospitals, they see it all

First things first. The surgery alluded to in the recent post went well. (And no, despite reference to bad heart valves, it wasn’t heart surgery.) We’re over the worst of it and that’s good. There’s a sore gut and weakness and all, but it’s now “recovery” phase, and not “what if…?”

So, last night, after running errands and grabbing dinner, my brother, his girlfriend and I went back to the hospital to check on the patient. We found a sekrit stairway to get to the floor where the patient is. And coming in the south entrance of the hospital, we could turn left down this hall, or that hall, to reach the entrance to the sekrit stairway. Bro goes down the first one, I head to the second. Girlfriend eggs us on into a race. “Go! Go! Run, Susan! Beat him!” she says. It’s Friday night, we’re going past doors to labs that are generally open during weekday business hours. I race down the hallway, knowing my brother is racing down the other. He arrives at that stairway a few steps ahead of me, says something suitably neener-neener-ish — in that universal language of brothers. I laugh. Whatever. It was fun to race. As I hold the stairwell door open, I see a few people emerge from the hallway over thataway — apparently they emerged to see what the fuss was about.

All of a sudden I see my –well, our– actions through the eyes of others. These two adults in their 40s (what my nieces and nephews would call, you know, grownups), with gray flecked hair, racing down hallways like little children, I tell you! Children!

I approach a few steps toward them, saying, “Sorry. Just a little sibling rivalry there. Sorry if we disturbed or alarmed you.”

And then I headed up those stairs, giggling to myself.

I was born at that hospital nearly 50 years ago, and I still feel like a young person inside.

One response to “Hospitals, they see it all”

  1. cia

    That’s because you ARE young… looking at 50 myself next month, and realizing that getting older is, strangely, restoring the gift of wonder.