Not Today

I learned a magic trick that day. It was a card trick that the homeless man who I had become friends learned years ago, while on the streets in Tennessee. I was captivated by this particular trick, and it made me laugh because I was completely dumbfounded at how he did it. He said it was just a little card trick, but it brought so much light, and laughter to such a dark and sad place. We sat there doing the same magic trick over and over. I decided after the twentieth time that I should call my husband and update him. I had to give him the news that I wouldn’t be home until Monday at the earliest.

When my husband answered the call, I could hear the hope in his voice. He sounded as if he was ready to jump into the car, and come get me. It shattered my heart to have to tell him: “Not today.” We sat silent on the phone, until we both just sighed. We had no words to speak to one another, I definitely didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to vent too much, because I knew they listened in on phone calls. I didn’t want to pretend I was okay, because he would see right through the lie. We chose to keep the conversation about when he would visit, and how we were going to find a babysitter so he could. I was upset I wouldn’t see my kids, but I couldn't change it. I believed it was detrimental to my care to not see my children at all, but I had to abide by the rules. At the end of our conversation, we agreed I would call back in the early evening time to get an update. I hung up the silver phone, and walked back to my table.

Waiting for the evening time to come seemed like a wait that would never end. I was still astounded by the different card tricks, and I was working on a hard level Sudoku puzzle to help pass the time. It was right at three o’clock when I heard them announce snack time, and we stood in line, this time by the nurses desk. We ate peanut butter crackers with an apple, and we were given ice cold water in a small 3 ounce wax cup with no refills of the fresh water. We could fill the cup unlimited times from the water fountain, but that water was warm, and tasted of iron. I sipped from my water after every bite of the crackers, and when it was gone, I took a bite from my apple to wet my throat just enough to where it didn’t feel dry.

At this point, I had become somewhat accustomed to the rules and the schedules, and I knew dinner was going to be served soon. I chose to call my husband to check on the babysitter situation, and I was told he couldn’t find one. I was crushed, but I knew he tried. Being I was going on 48 hours without a shower, he offered to drop off clothes for me so I could at least change, and feel clean. I told him I would appreciate it, but to cut the drawstrings off of everything, because if not they won’t let me wear it. He said he would be coming up with the boys in about 30 minutes, and I was heartbroken knowing that information. I knew I would be in the same building as my kids only separated by one door, yet I wouldn’t be able to see, or talk to them. I wanted to cry, but there were too many people in the room, so I kept it in the best I could. The burning sensation hit my throat and eyes, and I coughed in an attempt to clear my throat in an attempt to sound like I was okay. The last thing I wanted was my husband to hear me cry. I felt weak and decided to end the conversation.

30 minutes later I asked the nurse if my husband had dropped off my belongings yet. She responded, “He’s actually here now.” I took a painful deep breath, and the pit in my stomach grew. I felt pulled to run through those doors and see my children, even if just for a minute. Instead I walked to my room, and sat on my bed until I was sure he would be gone. Back at the desk I had a clean pair of pajama pants, a couple of sweaters, and some thick socks. I was ready to shower, but when I asked for my shower supplies, I was told I couldn’t shower until after dinner. I was frustrated to say the least, but there was nothing I could do. I sat down, and it was time for shift change. It was the same process as this morning, only this time it took a lot longer. Patients had energy and were unruly, most causing chaos just from a blood pressure cuff that was on “too tight.” I finally got my vitals done, low blood pressure as usual, and walked away.

I took my place in the dinner line, more so out of habit at this point, because I wasn’t hungry, but I knew I had to eat. When they opened the doors, I took a deep breath to see if I smelled anything familiar, but unlike before, I didn’t smell anything. When we made it to the glass window, we were served cold ham sandwich, coleslaw, and a fruit cup. I was saddened because I wanted a warm meal. Something comforting. I sat with my friends at the cold, round metal table. We swapped foods as always, and I ended up with a chocolate milk, two fruit cups, and an extra mayo packet for my sandwich. We all laughed at the fact we had a warm lunch and a cold dinner, and we shared recipes for our favorite dinners. The homeless man spoke of how he wanted to go to culinary school, and we all smiled. The dinner may have been cold, but being around this table, with these amazing people, made me feel warm and comforted.