As promised, I am on letter duty (I said doodie) today as the mother is still in the hospital with a serious leg gash. OK, this one has gone much better for her. She is really recovering better than she did last time. I think it is a combination of 1) the knowledge of what will transpire, 2) the fact that she has one good (recently surgeried) hip, and 3) she is being blessed as a missionary mom.
She was given a blessing before she went in for surgery and there were some great things promised her. She has referred to this blessing often. One specific thing was that she would be calm and peaceful prior to the surgery. Strangely enough, she repeated over and over how noticeably calm she was and that she felt the spirit helping her along. She was grateful for this. Her surgery was Wednesday, as you know, and you should have receive a little note from me letting you know that she was in good shape. The doctor, I think, forgot to come out and tell me that she was done and that the procedure had gone well.
We arrived at the hospital at 5:30am and after checking in, they took her back to prepare her for surgery. After about 45 minutes, they came and got me and I went back to wish her well. She doesn’t remember that because she was so drugged up by then. She said goodbye and then I went to the surgery waiting area. And waited. And waited. I fell asleep in the chair while watching Anchorman on the iPod. I woke up and wiped the drool off myself and played it off to the other waiters who were trying not to stare. I pretended that I was retarded and began softly moaning and chanting incoherently. They felt bad. It worked, I win. Just kidding. The hospital staff finally alerted me at 12:30pm that she was headed up to recovery and would arrive in about 10 minutes.
Had I been mom I would have been freaking out. But since I am me and since I’m retarded, I wasn’t bothered. I was a little annoyed but not enough to grab the hospital administrator and strangle her like a Trek Chicken. We got to mom’s room and she wasn’t alone. Last time, she paid to be in a private room. This time, I tried to pay for a private room but there were too many patients and surgeries so there was no room. Not even in the Inn. So, she bunked with a great lady named Helen Charlene XXXXXX. I’m not sure what their last name was but her husband was Paul and they were in their 60’s with a slight chance of rain. I give you her whole name because she goes by either Charlene or Char. That is what mom called her. The hospital staff, on the other hand, called her Helen – EVERY TIME THEY DEALT WITH HER.
It seems that if you want to win somebody over, the lease you could do is get their name straight. Oh well, the comedy of errors that surrounded the staff at this hospital is a letter in itself. She comes home tomorrow (Monday) after spending 5 glorious days in culinary purgatory. That’s the politically correct way of indicating that the food sucked. Tonight we even had to get her some chicken to replace the fish and mashed potatoes she was served.
She comes home tomorrow and we are all excited for her return.
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