The beauty of life for me
is that given time and distance the better memories rise to the surface.
Yesterday at the VA, where I was sent on a fool’s errand, smiling nurses and
doctors appeared in my vision greeting, “How’s Carr?”
When I walked through the
corridor, the nurse I thought of as the “dark hulk”, who would wake Kirt up
with a raspy voice, “Carr, show me your arm band.” The grand baldheaded silhouette towered over
us, shading the suddenly bright light with his form. It became a regular
morning treat, well, some days not so much, but a quietly competent, sweet,
gentle man; we’ve come to know.
Tell you the truth, during
the stay I felt like my brain sparked and caught on fire. Sometimes the top of
my head felt hot, shit, it hurt. Seeing my darling man so sad, so hurt caused
my heart chakra to pulse; that scared me but what the hell I was in a hospital.
The big ebony guy wanting, now, to know how Carr’s doing is my angel. Each
morning he looked into my eyes and smiled from his heart. I wasn’t just, “La
esposa de Carr.” He saw me. That was
priceless. Thanks, God, and VA San Juan for hiring my “Dark Hulk Angel.”
On the third floor sweet
Ada with the knowledgeable hands and eyes, who does wound care extraordinaire
smiled, “How’s Carr.” When “Les Miserables” were in the hospital all I could
focus on was anything perceived as not good for my husband. I felt so
comfortable with charming Ada’s skill. I allowed myself to go out of hearing
range. My conversations with friendly confidants during these times kept me
somewhat sane. Thank you, God, Ada, and my friends, Cheryl and Adri, for
answering the phone.
Dr. Rodriguez, the shrink,
whom I admire a whole bunch, Mary, the Social Worker, who does a bang-up job,
and the Case Worker, Debra, maybe my favorite, all came for updates and well
wishes. Dr. Aviles, the Rehab Doctor, who is one smooth dude on any continent
listened to my description of Kirt’s leg, asked questions and gave me answers.
Slam, bang, thank you and we’re on to the next item.
Next item is a whole
“nother” story, which we’ll get to later. I just want to say that during the
hospital stay it seemed natural to focus on the imperfections of a day. I’ll
bet the shrinks have a spiffy name for it, like Patient Family Syndrome. When
you love someone so much that you could go crazy with worry, no doubt, some of
us can be a pain in the butt, but it’s all for the good of the patient; right!
Thank you, VA, for seeing it that way.
To make the rough times in
a person’s life even tolerable is a tough job. Thank you San Juan VA; that’s
all I have to say today.
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