Observations from the Hospital Visitor Chair

My mom was moved into a regular room yesterday, a room she shares with a lady from Hazard, KY (ever seen Patrick Swayze's movie "Next of Kin"... yeah THAT Hazard). Things have been pleasant, Mom is craving a cigarette something terrible, but at least she gets to have a regular Pepsi now.

Mom and her roommate are having a lively discussion regarding smoking. Both of them smoke and they don't understand why the doctors are getting so upset about it.

"Everybody can drink till their drunk and then drive up and down the road killing people, but you tell them you smoke and everyone gets huffy," says Mom.

"I know," says the roommate in her graveled, Weezie Jefferson voice,"that's because 90% of them drink."

I'd bet a fair amount of money, the roommate is a Baptist. She'd likely complain if they danced while drinking too.

The Baptist gals then start a discussion that could be construed by the lay observer (me) as the dueling banjos of family health problems. Roommate's father died of cancer, so did Mom's. Her mother passed away from a heart attack, Mom's mother died during heart surgery. And on and on...

Mom just returned the volley with "My mother never smoked, but she had emphysema..."

Nice shot, Mom...

Home... Finally...

Mom was released today, thank heavens, and is doing fine. The hospital is a good one, as they do have a lot of amenities I'd not seen at a hospital, like free wireless internet (though they did block 411).

I'm finally home after four days of hospitals, hotels, and waiting rooms. I couldn't be happier. It's not like it is physical labor, but sitting and waiting, watching the clock turn slowly by and hoping for things to be okay are taxing on the body and brain. My sibs and I get sort of punch drunk from being so tired, which is usually why things get a bit wacky at times between us. After the number of times we've done this together, first with the many times with Dad, then our grandmother, and now Mom, it's become easy to recognize the signs of it. We make each other laugh, to the point where we've been asked to be quiet by nurses. It's a defense mechanism of sorts, I think, but also a testament to an unmistakable chemistry that comes from being around folks with whom you have so much history. It's either we laugh or we fight and I think we naturally swing towards the former. Some of my personal one-liners from this week:

To my brother who was ogling some beautiful, young college co-eds:
-- "You know you're old enough to be... unattractive to them..."

To my sister, who was looking down at her shirt:
-- "They're called 'boobies.' You have two of them." (thank you, Brenda Dickson)

To my mom, whose cough syrup had spilled in her duffle bag and onto her clean underwear:
-- "Look at the bright side, Mom, your underwear hasn't coughed once today."

To my brother who "let one go" in the elevator:
-- "Geez, if farting was an Olympic event, I'd think you'd have struck gold..."

I'm not quitting my day job, but am thinking of calling in tomorrow to sleep in...