Monday at the hospital

I’m in a hospital waiting room. My sister had shortness of breath yesterday and I brought her to the hospital.  She was admitted and will probably be here a week.

I’m one of the few people who feel at ease in a hospital. I spent more than 10 years in and out of doctor’s offices and hospitals with my husband and with various family members.  I can’t say I enjoy being around hurting, scared people, exhausted nurses and vending machine food but I’m used to it, I can cope. So that’s why I stayed with her most of yesterday and today. Why I’ll be back tomorrow and so on.  I am like Anne Elliott, the first one who is called when somebody is sick, it is expected of her as a spinster (widow in my case).

Not that I had stuff to do and I admit I would rather be here, to be on hand when the doctor comes, orders change and to ask questions. I did it for Jerry.

She is not used to being sick, forced to stay in bed, or follow orders.  She’s feeling better,  she was bored earlier because there wasn’t anything on TV.

But there is one difference.  She’s had visitors. Yesterday and today, people came to see her and pray over her. I’m glad, really but I am a little perturbed, not pissed but a tad upset. This is why.

None of this happened when Jerry died. No one came to visit me and Bear, we received a few cards but no visitors. No one came to check on us. Even though its been nearly two years I’m surprised I am still this resentful. Yes, nearly two years, in five months it will be two years.

It doesn’t change anything, today’s events or 19 months ago. I am glad she had visitors, it’s important to feel loved, to know people care. But it reminded me of how alone Bear and me are, and how it felt.


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