OK, well, despite being
lost in the labyrinthine hospital yesterday, my mom and I found our way out. And so did my dad! (Sort of.) He's being moved to the rehabilitation wing, where they will make him move his limbs till he can get around better and go home. He is quite chipper today, though some crankiness and discouragement are quite understandable when your active lifestyle is, er, clogged by blood clots.
There are many Exit signs in the hospital, but, in my recent experience, none of them led to exits I recognized as being also the entrance I'd used coming in. It was a bit like being in a Kafka novel or a play by Jean-Paul Sartre. Yesterday, attempting to exit by way of the elevator I'd come up on, I noticed a wall sign
that had not been there the day before. ("Twilight Zone" music.) It clearly showed patient room numbers that included my dad's room number! When I'd come up, for two consecutive days, the only signs showed other room numbers, not those on my dad's hallway. (Minotaur music.) The suddenly-appearing sign had a different font size and a satiny finish, and I thought, "Gee, that's probably something about expectations and perception, etc., blah blah blah." (Really. I say that kind of stuff in my head. And sometimes out loud.)
Finally, today, I tied a string to the front door and unrolled it as I went, made easier by all the automatic doors in a hospital. It was tricky going up the elevator, but it's elastic string...
Those are actors in Sartre's play, laughing at my silly myth. Anyhoo, I learned that I'd been using a staff-only elevator on my way back, and needed to pass that in order to find the regular elevator and retrace my steps without the aid of mythical elastic string. "Gee, it's nice not to be going bonkers while my dad's in the hospital and both he and my mom could use a little practical help!" (Sometimes my brain gets stuck in a feedback loop or an origami fold.)
Thanks for all the good vibes. Evidently, they worked!!
Oh, Kathleen, I so understand. The second time my dad broke his hip he was totally bonkers and I was getting real close. Spent five days in the hospital with him, sleeping on a narrow foldout couch, wandering lost in the hallways in search of a cellphone signal, and reading The Kite Runner. We will call you Ariadne from now on.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Collagemama!
ReplyDeleteOn a much lighter note, I recently agreed to meet a friend at the Aquarius bar at the Dream Inn. Yes, these are the actual names. Despite its iconic status, I had never actually been in the Dream Inn and decided I would walk over and find the Aquarius myself. I walked up to the entrance of the inn and saw an open door, with a sign that said Aquarius restaurant, so followed it in. I found myself in a corridor of hotel rooms. I came out the other side, went up and down staircases, in and out of buildings,always thinking I would find it around the next corner, but no, I hadn't. But there would be another sign for the restaurant, luring me on.
ReplyDeleteIt all worked in the end of course, but it was an odd little adventure.
God, they are the most surreal places! Hugs --
ReplyDeleteThanks, all. Now he's moved again, though, but where...?
ReplyDeleteSo glad your dad is doing better! We will keep the vibes moving on this end.
ReplyDeleteEvery time I go to University Hospital here, I seem to end up in the nursing school locker room or at a dead-end hallway leading to some terrifying sounding lab. You can't even use the pharmacy or the gift shop as a landmark, as there are multiple pharmacies and multiple gift shops. Fortunately the people who work there are sympathetic to lost souls.