the flow

Edward Hospital in Naperville flows.  It embraces you, and you drift down the halls like a youth in a tube riding the current of a gentle stream.    The check in is seamless, we follow the Ronald McDonald large orange footprints down the halls to our elevator.

My little team, one of my two daughters and wife, representing the bigger team that supports me from afar although inadequately thanked, but not unappreciated, and I arrive.   We get a secret tracking number, and they can follow my progress from waiting to recovery room on a TV screen like flights at the airport.

I am in  a good state, the no hassle login has allowed me to remain calm.  I am quieter than normal, it is a bit like putting on a “game face” before an important game.   My wife and lover is quietly supportive at my side while my daughter is unsettled.  No matter how old you are, when your parents are ill, you feel like an orphan.

Next we go into a temporary waiting room and I don the a paper gown, not the typical cloth one, this one is lined heavy lined paper, and I think, “This is going to get messy”.

I am in the gown, with my little footie socks, reclining on my bed/cart that will wheel me to the operation.  There is no more to be said, and I ask if I can be alone, and my wife and daughter return to the waiting room with the other hopeful, helpless people.

 

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