A few weeks ago I touched upon hospital beds and how they were a place for silliness and family time. The hours spent visiting my husband in the hospital with the children, cuddled on the bed watching TV or sitting on it playing games fed me as a mom. Those long lasting marks still pop up. I hope both my husband and the children were as touched by those moments.
I was to learn that hospital beds can teach lessons too, as it did to me.
A few years ago, we found ourselves at the hospital for one of my hubby’s major brain surgeries; the fourth one, I think.
The morning of the surgery we found ourselves brought into a room for JM to get prepped for surgery. He shared the room with a woman being admitted for a brain surgery of her own. She was already ready by the time we arrived. The two were to be separated by a curtain.
It seems that the curtain was not sound proof. You see, as my husband was stripping down I mentioned I wish I knew a stripper tune. No sooner said then we got one through the curtain by the woman’s spouse. It was one of my clues that he too was an experienced ambulance chaser; able to make a joke in the midst of a stressful situation.
Our paths separated as our spouses were wheeled out.
By the middle of the afternoon we met again in front of the elevators next to the hospital ICU where they were to bring our spouses. We started to talk, easily. I guess he had recognised the experienced ambulance chaser in me too.
Our first subject was brain surgery. The gentleman mentioned that his poor wife would be very uncomfortable having to wait for hours for her turn in the OR. He was concerned she would be hungry. I stated that my hubby had spent the day unconscious since he was having a day surgery that would last the day.
First clue.
I asked him if they had children. He said yes, they had a girl. I mentioned how resilient kids are in the midst of these medical adventures. He easily shared with me that their daughter was in therapy because of her mother’s illness.
Second clue.
We continued about watching TV and movies; common ground. That is when he pointed to the hospital bed along the wall and said how their life has changed because of it. He asked if we had one at home.
Third clue.
We did and still do not. I was almost embarrassed when I answered him.
The third clue was the charm. It was the one that hit the message home.
Don’t assume.
Despite mentioning that I don’t want people to assume about me or my husband, that is exactly what I did. I assumed his daughter was fine because our children were functioning well. I assumed that our paths were similar. He assumed JM had waiting for hours to go in the OR and we had a hospital bed at home.
We were similar in some really important ways.
We were good partners. We were the voice for someone we loved. We worried for our kids and our spouses. We have become the medical experts and therapists for our spouses. We knew how to wait outside neurological ICUs to speak to neurosurgeons.
That is where our paths separated.
His family was hoping for a few extra months as a family. His daughter suffered throughout and needed outside support to deal with life. They were waiting for death.
My family was hoping and fighting for life. He only suffered from deadly seizures and we were there hoping they would stop. When he was conscious we would simply continue along normally or as normally as possible.
I should have known better than to assume that man’s family was like mine.
In talking with him I felt guilty… and lucky.