I was accompanying someone to the hospital a few days ago. As we were waiting for a small day surgery, I noticed a woman waiting for hers as well. She was with her mate. As we waited, I noticed he got onto the bed with her to take her into his arms just to hold her for a moment. Such a gentle act spoke volumes of the love and affection the couple shared.
It also spoke volumes of the strength of the hospital beds. For your information, two adults on the one single bed is a breeze.
I smiled. I know how strong hospital beds are. In our case: two adults,my husband and me, and I am no light weight, plus two kids who would climb all over us and play.
I guess playing with the kids was important to me. Maybe that is why it warmed me so much last week when we played Settler’s of Catan on Mother’s Day, though they are so much older.
Back to the hospital bed and how we tested them as a family. We kindly tested them for strength and endurance and did so for free. No need to thank us. It was the least we could do for the medical system.
We did so every time my husband would have to be hospitalised for weeks on end for telemetry or depth electrodes. Though he felt fine, he was to remain in bed under camera surveillance. We helped him stay put in bed by joining him for games, hugs and watching TV.
Watching TV all bunched together was exciting for the kids. They got to watch Sponge Bob Square Pants since there was cable at the hospital. As unfit parents, they lived in a home without cable for years. We actually only got it when we learned JM would be on the Neurology episode of Doctor*ology on the Discovery Channel
Thinking back to the couple I saw at the hospital, it makes me think how as individuals we perceive such situations.
I saw affection and closeness. I saw companionship and love.
Others might see fear, illness, sadness or even sorrow.
The couple just reminded me that hospital beds are strong and that even in a hospital setting there could be playfullness, love and laughter.
I am starting to feel particularly lucky since I tend to focus on the joys we had in the midst of illness.
This does not mean that there was no pain, whether it be physical or psychological. It also does not mean that as a family and as a couple we have not been pushed way too far, way too often. Believe me, I would have a few stories to tell!
It does mean that my focus does not land on those stories but on the ones where we could fall asleep in each others arms for a much needed nap despite one of us being hospitalised or in the children laughing as they played a game with us.
Why is that?
Why would some feel pain in looking at the couple hold each other?
Why did I see love and affection, sharing?
Maybe I am just lucky…
What do you see?