In the room
Sitting with my back against the wall here in the hospital room. The mood is good and light. The health seems to be getting better. What lurks underneath the surface and around the corner?
It still seems that we will be ushering in the new decade in a hospital room. My mother is recuperating, trying to gain her strength back, day by day. She tries her best to move her arms and legs, weighed down by the inflammation in the nerves in her spine, rendering her slow and sluggish, confining her to the bed. It seems that we have a hell of a lot of time to do what we might otherwise not get time to do. It seems like we might get to work on writing or other projects with all the down time here in the hospital. But there is no down time. Last week there was none. Now it seems like there is some opening up slowly. Doctors and nurses come and go. Aides come and go. Blood is drawn for tests, blood sugar is checked, steroids are given, anti-biotics are pushed, pills are swallowed. Sleep comes every now and then. The rest of the time there is some time but one has to eat, and go to the bathroom, talk on the phone to one's relatives. Answer phone calls, return phone calls, make phone calls, send text messages, read emails, send emails. Where's the time for creativity?
