This was to be the evening when I told you about my acting possibilities down the road. I had lots of say but I’m too weak. I woke up this morning with a deep cough, wracking myself in a high-pitched squeal as I tried to get the mucus up. Once, I was having trouble breathing. I was scared. In the summer of 2013, Jody had continual pneumonia symptoms. It turned out that it wasn’t an infection. It was cancer.
In Emergency today, the doctor told me I don’t have pneumonia … just bronchitis. No sign of cancer. Thank God.
Tonight it’s all about coughing spasms, chills and fever. I feel like poop. But I want to see if I can write anything of value. It’s fine to say good stuff when I’m well. This, right now, is the test.
How do I treat people when I’m suffering? I got some clue about that today at the hospital. The triage nurse asked me what colour the mucus was, after I had told him. So let it go, Bruce. Not important. I answered him with no editorial comment.
After triage was the registration desk, and then finding a seat in the waiting room. I had my mask on. I chose to sit right next to a fellow, rather than two seats down. Was that being irresponsible? I don’t think so. In life, I simply want to move towards people rather than away from them. Could my presence right next door be a benefit to him? I say yes. In any event, my decision came from a good intention – to contribute rather than infect.
Earlier, in the triage seats, I talked to a woman who had been admitted to the hospital for a few days and then was sent home. Back again. We had a good time. Eventually I was sent to a smaller waiting room, hopefully to see a doctor soon. And there was the same woman, with two empty seats to her right. I saw her nudge her coat over, to allow me full space next to her. Inexplicably to me, I sat down two seats away. Immediately, I felt the contraction. Distance is not what I’m up to in life, so I moved over beside her. That felt good, and right, and what the planet needs. We talked some more. And I knew that I had already forgiven myself completely.
A half hour later, I was alone in that room, when a fellow ambled in. I wanted to make contact, so I said: “You just missed the hors d’oeuvres. A woman came by a few minutes ago.” He smiled.
A few minutes after that, two women dropped their paperwork at the window and took a seat. “It seems that they’re serving us in alphabetical order.” Two smiles. Missions accomplished.
I’m happy, and sick. Nothing special. Just me.
Feel better.
Thanks, lbeth.
Bruce
Poor Bruce. Make sure you take care of yourself and get well soon.
I can feel wellness growing as I type, Lynne.
Bruce