despite the risk, visiting his mom was essential given the lack of information he was being given not only about her care, but also her state of being. laying eyes on her was the only reassurance he had that she was in fact ok. but it wasn’t easy. in fact, it was a bit herculean — it meant pulling on a gown, plastic face shield and a mask, walking past the gasping men, having a quick chat, doing a doughnut handoff — chocolate-dipped — and then ducking back out. the anxiety of the possibility of bringing covid home with him weighed heavy.
it was a poky game of hide-and-seek hoping for a glimpse of the elusive doctor
after a couple more days with still no word on a treatment plan, he took to visiting during the times that rounds might happen, a poky game of hide-and-seek hoping for a glimpse of the elusive, ghost doctor. but still, nothing. around the same time, a woman responsible for discharging patients called to arrange his mother’s discharge. when he told her that they didn’t have a treatment plan yet, and that she hadn’t reached the 10-day post covid mark, the woman’s nonplussed response made it very clear: they needed her bed.
and when he called the hospital to get the direct contact info to reach her doctor, he was put on hold once he connected to the nurses’ station. as the line beeped rhythmically, he ate breakfast, took the garbage out and walked his dog. after 30 minutes, he got into his car and drove to the hospital, still on hold. just as he pushed the door open to the floor his mother was on, someone picked up the line and put him on hold again. at around the 47 minute mark, he was standing in front of the nurses’ station where three nurses were sitting talking — ignoring the orange light that was flashing on the phone.
when he called the hospital, he was put on hold once he connected to the nurses’ station. as the line beeped rhythmically, he ate breakfast, took the garbage out and walked his dog. getty