I’m reminded, as I lay here on this uncomfortable bench seat/bed, how much I hate hospitals. Not just because the bedding for overnight guests are usually the worst, but because I have some bad memories here. I lost my grandfather when I was seven years old. He was my best friend at that time of my life. Always stood up for me, and anytime I was in trouble I would run to him and he would bail me out so to speak. Before he left us, he had a series of stays at the hospital. Bad heart. Towards the last of his stays he was in a wing where they didn’t allow young children there. I remember being snuck in just so we could see one another. We weren’t gonna let a crazy hospital rule like yah keep us from one another. He passed not too long after that. My best friend, gone, and one of the last images I have of him is him in a hospital bed with tubes hanging in and out of him. I still miss him today, almost 26 years later.
My next bad experience at a hospital came my freshman year. Woke up with stomach pains and after hours and hours at the clinic they finally told me I had appendicitis. My parents took me to the hospital and I couldn’t even stand up straight by that time. I remember vomiting outside the hospital when I got there. I also remember my brother almost fainting when they were drawing my blood and a little but squirted out on the floor. The thing I remember most is being wheeled into the O.R. I thought to myself, “What if something goes wrong. What if I just don’t wake up.” Not sure if that’s normal or not for people going into surgery but it hit me hard. I spend one night there. The doctor wanted me to stay a week and recover. I refused. I would rather clean my own wound and bandage myself at home than stay another sleepless night there. And that’s exactly what happened.
A little over two years ago I lost my grandmother. She was over ninety years old. That’s a long time without my grandpa. I knew she was past ready to go. She had already seen some of her own kids pass on. Can’t imagine that’s an easy thing to experience. And even though I knew that, it still was hard for me to see her with tubes stuck to her as well. They said when she passed she smiled. I can only imagine what she saw. They say Jesus is the first person you meet in heaven. Gotta be pretty awesome to see Him.
My next memory in a hospital shortly after that was actually a great one. My son was born months later. The best thing to happen to our marriage without a doubt. Can’t really complain about that memory. I can’t really speak for my wife and she had to feel the pain before, during and after with slight complications.
And now, tonight, I sit here laying in my mom’s room as she tries to rest, I think of all those times I’ve spent in hospitals and the memories that I will probably keep forever. I hope she gets out of here soon, and recovers fast from her surgery. I hate staying the night here, and I know I probably won’t get much sleep if any before having to go to work tomorrow morning, but this is my mom. The woman who sacrificed so much for us when we were kids. There’s absolutely nothing that I will not do for her. Nothing.