A long stay

The University of Iowa hospital is quieter this Friday then it was last Saturday during the Iowa vs. Iowa State football game. Instead of television sets blaring the play-by-play recalls, they were either shut off or showing an old John Wayne film. The doctors and nurses were now discussing the condition of a patient, not betting on the out come of the game. In the rooms, patients had their curtains drawn instead of leaving them open to keep each other company. Maybe because it’s been raining all week or because there is still one more day before the next game, tempers ran short today and patients were careful not to ask for help as much as possible.

In room 6056 two patients lye in beds with pale pastel colored striped and checkered curtains separating one from the next. One rests silently staring blankly at the freshly scrubbed off-white walls, waiting for her Friday night supper in hope that the smell of cooked food could clear her nostrils of the lemon scented cleaner.

Another patient gazes out the sixth floor window at the tinted glass building that is also a part of the hospital. The section by the window has a perfect view of the nurse’s station that was located about fifteen feet outside the door. Soon the lady in the hospital bed gets tired of watching the rain clouds fade away in the distance and became interested in her visitors that had just arrived. “Hi mom, how are you feeling?” One of them says. She smiles at the faces that loom around her white-sheeted bed and doesn’t speak at first.

“I’m all right. The therapy went well today and my strength is starting to come back.”

The daughter says a simple, “That’s great to hear,” and sits down beside the bed. It’s now six o’clock and the patient begins to wonder where her food has gone. She hits a little green button on the side of the bed and a small beep rings through the hall as a light light’s up outside the room. Two to three minutes later a nurse dressed in white slacks and a green blouse enters the room. She was smiling but it isn’t a natural, nice to see you smile. It was more like a polite, I’m tired and I want to go home so what do you want, kind of smile. Quickly the patient explains that she should of received her food thirty minutes ago. The nurse promises to find out what the problem is and leaves. She returns five minutes later with a food tray, shoves it onto a table in front of the patient’s face and exits without a single word.

The rich aroma of fried chicken and mash potatoes fills the room and for a second the patient could imagine that she was dinning with her family at KFC instead of sitting stiffly in a bed preparing to eat soggy hospital food. The family sits quietly and lets their loved one eat while listening to the soft hiss of her monitor. A sharp crisp cough arises from the patient in bed behind the other curtain. It’s followed by a deep breath being let out and sucked back in on what must be some kind of high tech inhaler.

Getting bored of the silence the patient decides to ask her granddaughter, who has been sitting noiselessly in a chair directly under the TV, what she had for lunch.

“Today I had Mac & Cheese.”

“Do you have frozen pizza?” her grandmother asks her.

“Yeah, we got her three last week,” her mother replies.

“This milk and pie taste bitter,” says the patient as she takes a gulp of it and stares at her piece of pecan pie.

“Is the pie bad?”

“No, haven’t had pie for a long time,’

No one could think of anything else to say so they just sat quietly and watched as she finished her pie. The patient next door’s phone rings and there is a soft click as she picks it up. “Hello! Yeah. I said there after you left…” The family sits quietly listening to the conversation while trying to come up with their own.

The awkward silence was broke after the son of the patient overheard two doctors discussing the outcome of tomorrow’s game. “Home game tomorrow night,” he said with a grin. “You might want to watch it at five; it should be on fox sports.”

“Really?”

“Should be able to see the light glow from here,” he said referring to the window. The football field was located just to the west side of the hospital and if the glass building wasn’t in the way the window would look right upon the back side of the stands.

A grandchild finally decided to join the conversation. “We could go sit on the roof and watch the game.” Short laughs from the family echo throughout the room and the second patient pauses her phone conversation to see what the commotion was about. Unfortunately a janitor in a dark blue suit asking the family to please keep it down interrupted the laughter. The laughter immediately stops but smiles remain, for a while, on each person’s face. They look around the room in search of something new to talk about.

The granddaughter’s eyes fell on a small plant almost hidden in the shadow of the TV. If it were lighter in the room, the plant would have stuck out more with it’s pink flowers, and lovely grass green leaves shinning even in the shadows. To a visitor, it might seem odd that this plant was placed high out of reach while most people leave them close by the bed, but to the patient it was the perfect place. No matter where she was, sitting up in bed, standing by a chair, or laying down she could see it and know that there is something living and growing even more beautiful in this pearly clean place.

The smell of the freshly cooked food has long faded and behind it lingers the stale smell of the uneaten bites that remained on the plate. It’s getting late now. The sun is already gone and the sky darkens in the distance making the glass building look shockingly black and lonely. Nurses begin to make final checks around the rooms before they leave for home. They place maroon blankets at the ends of each patient’s bed and politely tell families that visiting hours were almost over.

The family in room 6056 began to say short good-byes and promises to visit again on Sunday. Trying to stall as long as she can, the patient starts to ask meaningless questions, “Did your shirt get wet from the humidity today?” Then as her family is about to leave the room she stalls by saying, “Oh would you please turn down the light? Please turn the TV on. No I want it off. I think I’ll sleep. Please turn off the light when you leave.” She says bye and snuggles beneath the covers, watching her family leave. Just before the last person, her son, leaves the room she asks, “You are coming back Tuesday?”

“Yes mom, we’ll see you then. Take care now.” With that they leave the room. The family then walks slowly down the freshly cleaned, lemon scented halls towards the elevators. The last thing that could be heard is the soft humming of monitors and the constant beep of call buttons as the doors of the elevator shut them out of this inner world.