b Papa Dog's Blog: Sick Day (Not Mine)

Papa Dog's Blog

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Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Sick Day (Not Mine)

JR’s in the hospital with a blood clot in his lung, which has got to be a pretty crappy way to follow up a honeymoon. He’s not even on any good painkillers. I can’t understand why this should be, but all of a sudden we and our peer group seem to be acquiring problems and challenges that smack of middle age. Blood clots, infertility, mortgages, heart ailments, bad backs, bifocals. As one who only recently departed his teens, I find this puzzling.

We stopped by tonight for a visit, with a card Mama Dog picked out and a deck of cards I picked out. We know each other from poker, see. Figured he could use a brand-new unmarked deck of 52 with which to pass the time between invasions and impertinences.

Baby Dog was in a happy and chatty mood. As we entered the hospital, we encountered almost immediately a coterie of custodians in the lounge area. One hopped up and put himself face to face with Baby Dog, muttering endearments. The act trod a frayed line between sweet and creepy. Mama Dog mentioned that our girl spoke Spanish, so the guy switched languages, and bad her farewell as “amor.” Baby Dog stared stonily at him throughout, refusing to be charmed by a weirdo getting in her face. Good girl. “Let’s leave by a different exit,” Mama Dog suggested later.

JR and the Mircat had a room to themselves, the Mircat having somehow contrived to get JR’s elderly roommate with the sleep apnea transferred elsewhere. The room, like the rest of the hospital, seemed stuck in the early 70s, right down to the wall-mounted Zenith TV. The cool part was that it overlooked the helipad, and midway through the visit we got to see a helicopter arrive. “Helicopter” is a word Baby Dog has recently learned from one of her books, and has come close to saying. She seemed very excited to see a real one.

JR seemed in good spirits, considering. We talked about TV shows and medical procedures and I managed to get Baby Dog to give a small demonstration of her command of farm animal noises before she succumbed to stage fright. The nurse came in to check under the hood, so we took off. Luckily, the janitors weren’t in the lounge anymore—we really didn’t have another exit to chose from.


Blogger Judy said...

When Tyler was 6 days old, I had to take him back to the hospital for a bilirubin test since he was quite jaundiced. Less than 24 hours later, he contracted a HUGE virus that landed us back in the hospital with a foot IV and a week's worth of crappy meals and sleepless nights. Coincidence? Not really, when you consider his newness and weak immune system and the gunk people were coughing and breathing on him as they cooed at him in the carrier. Hospitals...bleh. Hope JR gets well soon!

4:35 AM  

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