Room With a View

I was wheeled into a room on the 4th floor of the main building. I thought where they were taking me was 48-B. That's what I heard when the orthopedic resident repeated it back into the phone with the raising inflection of someone questioning or surprised upon hearing, I'm guessing, my destination.

It turned out to be 4-E-8-B, as in fourth floor, East wing, room 8, bed B.

Well, good thing we got that cleared up.

The room had four beds spots, all separated by those curtains. We all pretend those curtains are as strong as rebar and cinder-block, but that's fodder for another post.

My bed was next to our side, A and B's side, of the window, so I had a pretty nice view of beautiful Torrance.

Since it faced north, I wasn't ever bothered by direct sun. That first night was loud and restless, and from where my head laid, if I faced the window, my view was of only a night sky and a bright orange moon...but it wasn't our lunar satellite, it was a glowing Shell sign.

I couldn't even see tree tops from where my head laid, just purple sky and the orange scallop glowing softly in the short distance.

That first night was difficult. I wasn't sure I was getting any sleep. There were nurses coming in at all hours, doing things to the other three guys, who, at that time, I had no idea what was medically up with them. Noises, orderlies waking me up, taking my vitals, coughing, joking and prodding a neighbor--"Oh, Mister Anthony, you know you need your insulin," and endless discussions about the lone Spanish-only guy, in the C-spot mostly blocking the bathroom door. His was a GSW, and there was always some major issue that needed discussion. (That's a Gun-Shot Wound for the uninitiated.)

I swear there are hostels in Prague with retching Spaniard birthday boys that are easier to sleep inside than that room on the first night.

Mister Anthony, to my right, in the A-spot, had, besides diabetes, major issues with his feet and legs, and some kind of blood issue. He looked like one of the guys you see all gnarled and smelly passed out on the A-train at 3:30 in the morning. Been there, so I have some idea on what I'm talking about.

Across from me, in the D-spot, was young black man who had been receiving steroid treatment as well as treatment for major colon issues. His doctors would come through usually during the late morning. One was a young lady who's face I never saw. I did catch her voice first, then saw her figure and how her short hair was kept, and, you know, I realized I didn't need to see her face.

Getting up and out of the bed was always a challenge, as was sleeping, but things changed in the few days I stayed there.

After the first or second day they moved all of us down to room 10, so the new spot was 4E-10B, but really sleeping remained the hard thing, and restroom trips remained the hardest thing.

That's still pretty much the same now, while I recover at home.