OCR Text |
Show 278 It wasn't so bad. Floor by floor, through the months, we had uncovered the secrets of this hospital. Such treasures as there were - four different ways to get onto the roof without being discovered; the elevators were always there to entertain us; and if the right nurse was on duty and at her station, a Sprite was sure to follow. The corridor near my mother's room went dark. Silence penetrated the hospital. It didn't matter though; the visiting hours didn't apply to us. A perk from the frequent-flyer-miles we had earned from visiting the hospital so much over the years. There were some nights when we would be there for hours past the time we should have left. On a rare occasion, when the stays were long, I would spend the night in the bed next to my mom, keeping her company and spending time with her. Nights in the hospital were worse than days. A choking darkness would come over the place. No sound. Not even the beeping that the heart monitor made, ticking away the time. A bitter time. She lay in the dim hospital room, the bed partly reclined. IVs jutting out of her wrist with a slow drip methodically making its way into her veins. A silence saturated the room. The hospital called for silence. It wasn't right to speak above a whisper. She was sleeping. The medicine that was pumping into her assured she wouldn't wake up for hours. My legs were restless, swinging back and forth from the chair I was sitting on. The doctor droned on in a tone that said, I-have-bad-news-for-you-but-I'm-not-going-to-let-on-that-it's-bad-news. |