I Wanna Know What Love Is, I Want You To Show Me, I Wanna Feel What Love Is, I Know You Can Show Me
--"I Want To Know What Love Is", Foreigner
I was in Irvine earlier today visiting Casey and Laurel. Laurel's been staying there for some undisclosed "problem." Well, I wouldn't call it undisclosed; it would just be undisclosed to me.
That's the deal with me and hospitals. I don't like going there. In fact, I avoided going there for two days, before going to see her. I mean--Casey told me the entire time that it was no big deal. She kept telling me it was nothing to worry about. However, I figured after her third consecutive day, paying a visit was the only right thing to do. I didn't want to know what she had, though. As long as everyone kept telling me that it wasn't anything huge, that Laurel wasn't dying or anything, it really does me no good to find out the particulars. It just makes me worried and unnecessarily scared. It's the same thing that happened when my grandmother and uncle were in the hospitals just before they died. People kept wanting to tell me what was wrong with them, but that's the last thing I wanted to know. Even knowing the problem, I can't help with it. There's no point in ever telling someone who isn't immediately involved with treatment what's wrong with a person. All it ever does is give a name to something that should be kept furthest from a person's mind.
I mean--I went and saw Laurel because she's become a regular person I see. But it just hurts me to see people who are that sick, sick enough to warrant a stay in the hospital. Barring a situation like Jennifer, where she literally had months to live, I would much rather congratulate a person after they're better and doing fine than come see them when they're not doing so hot. It's enough for me to know that they'll be getting out. I don't know--I guess I would have rather skipped seeing people's weaknesses, their frailty. It just reminds me of my body's weakness and my own body's frailty. Seeing Laurel like that, pinned up and poked with various tubes--it was like seeing Jennifer again just before she died.
It's a sight I don't ever want to see again. Not if I don't have to.
The one good thing to come out of it (besides the fact I was there to hear the good news she'll be getting out tomorrow) is something small that Casey told me while she and I were alone in the hospital cafeteria. She told me she had been there since Wednesday, the entire three days. She heard the same news from the doctors that I did, that it was nothing to worry about. She even got the suggestion to go home and that they would call her when they got better news. But Casey just stayed there, by the hospital bed when it was visiting hours and she was allowed to be there, and taking naps here and there in the hospital lobby and even in her car when she wasn't allowed in the room. She stayed because that's where Laurel was. She stayed because she didn't want to be apart from her.
People always talk about never leaving another person's side. It's a comforting thing to say. Yet when it comes right down to it, people make the choice to keep a comfortable distance. They tell themselves it doesn't matter if I'm here or not. It doesn't matter if I come home for dinner everyday. It doesn't matter if I spend every weekend with the person I'm with. People need their space, right? Casey has this crazy idea that it matters more when you do have that choice to be there for someone when you don't have to be. I tend to agree with that statement. Yes, I hate hospitals, but damn it all if I didn't try to do the same thing with DeAnn when she was in the hospital. Most people I could take or leave, but when I'm with someone I've done the whole sleep in my car, be there first thing in the morning, &c... That's just something you do when you love someone that much. Sure, Laurel was asleep a good deal of the time and probably didn't miss Casey all that much while she was out. But the important thing to know was Casey missed her the whole time.
That was the good part of going to the hospital today. It's been a long time since I've been around people who seem to have the relationship game all figured out. And I guess that's the redeeming part about hospitals. Being around so much pain, so much sadness, does tend to bring out the most human, the most loving side of people. That's the slice of life I like to bring back with me when I do step into a hospital--not the other stuff.
Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers
I was in Irvine earlier today visiting Casey and Laurel. Laurel's been staying there for some undisclosed "problem." Well, I wouldn't call it undisclosed; it would just be undisclosed to me.That's the deal with me and hospitals. I don't like going there. In fact, I avoided going there for two days, before going to see her. I mean--Casey told me the entire time that it was no big deal. She kept telling me it was nothing to worry about. However, I figured after her third consecutive day, paying a visit was the only right thing to do. I didn't want to know what she had, though. As long as everyone kept telling me that it wasn't anything huge, that Laurel wasn't dying or anything, it really does me no good to find out the particulars. It just makes me worried and unnecessarily scared. It's the same thing that happened when my grandmother and uncle were in the hospitals just before they died. People kept wanting to tell me what was wrong with them, but that's the last thing I wanted to know. Even knowing the problem, I can't help with it. There's no point in ever telling someone who isn't immediately involved with treatment what's wrong with a person. All it ever does is give a name to something that should be kept furthest from a person's mind.
I mean--I went and saw Laurel because she's become a regular person I see. But it just hurts me to see people who are that sick, sick enough to warrant a stay in the hospital. Barring a situation like Jennifer, where she literally had months to live, I would much rather congratulate a person after they're better and doing fine than come see them when they're not doing so hot. It's enough for me to know that they'll be getting out. I don't know--I guess I would have rather skipped seeing people's weaknesses, their frailty. It just reminds me of my body's weakness and my own body's frailty. Seeing Laurel like that, pinned up and poked with various tubes--it was like seeing Jennifer again just before she died.
It's a sight I don't ever want to see again. Not if I don't have to.
The one good thing to come out of it (besides the fact I was there to hear the good news she'll be getting out tomorrow) is something small that Casey told me while she and I were alone in the hospital cafeteria. She told me she had been there since Wednesday, the entire three days. She heard the same news from the doctors that I did, that it was nothing to worry about. She even got the suggestion to go home and that they would call her when they got better news. But Casey just stayed there, by the hospital bed when it was visiting hours and she was allowed to be there, and taking naps here and there in the hospital lobby and even in her car when she wasn't allowed in the room. She stayed because that's where Laurel was. She stayed because she didn't want to be apart from her.
People always talk about never leaving another person's side. It's a comforting thing to say. Yet when it comes right down to it, people make the choice to keep a comfortable distance. They tell themselves it doesn't matter if I'm here or not. It doesn't matter if I come home for dinner everyday. It doesn't matter if I spend every weekend with the person I'm with. People need their space, right? Casey has this crazy idea that it matters more when you do have that choice to be there for someone when you don't have to be. I tend to agree with that statement. Yes, I hate hospitals, but damn it all if I didn't try to do the same thing with DeAnn when she was in the hospital. Most people I could take or leave, but when I'm with someone I've done the whole sleep in my car, be there first thing in the morning, &c... That's just something you do when you love someone that much. Sure, Laurel was asleep a good deal of the time and probably didn't miss Casey all that much while she was out. But the important thing to know was Casey missed her the whole time.
That was the good part of going to the hospital today. It's been a long time since I've been around people who seem to have the relationship game all figured out. And I guess that's the redeeming part about hospitals. Being around so much pain, so much sadness, does tend to bring out the most human, the most loving side of people. That's the slice of life I like to bring back with me when I do step into a hospital--not the other stuff.
Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers
posted by mojo shivers @ 1:19 AM
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