Mom, post-surgery
It was really sad being back at Valley Hospital where we lost my dad. I kept remembering things from back then. One thing I kept thinking about was how he was so tall his feet hung off the stretchers they use to transport people. I was constantly worried they were going to hit his legs and the tumor in his leg would hurt him. I was constantly warning the orderlies and blocking like a crazy person. I also kept thinking about the milk shakes we got him from the Cafe downstairs.
When they moved my mom to her room after she got out of recovery, the day nurse she was assigned recognized both of us right away. We spent so much time at Valley Hospital with my dad, and on so many floors (oncology, neurology, intensive care, urology, dialysis, ER) that even though it was three years ago, my mother's nurse recognized both of us. "I recognize you," she said to me, "where do I know you from?" Then turning to my mom, "I recognize you too."
You recognize us from here, from oncology, from dialysis; you recognize us because we were here with my dad.
My mom added, "I have the same thing as him."
"The same thing?"
It's a strange, hard life we're living.
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