Rather than blogging (never mind working), I've been practicing my concerned-spouse-waiting-anxiously-for-the-medicos skills. After the fifth trip to the hospital (and the fourth to the emergency room) in two weeks, I have learned: that I'll feel more human if I bring a toothbrush; that napping whenever I can also makes me feel more human; that there is no way to feel human after 36 hours in the hospital; that I am not going to be outside, so I should wear sneakers and not boots; that gruesome forensic mystery novels are a Bad Idea, but space opera is harmless; that my beloved's requests to bring the papers she needs to work on are better ignored; that some scratch paper will come in handy; that it is better to nap than re-derive the mean field solution to the two-dimensional Ising model; that hospital security guards have seen it all, but it's still a good idea to walk out of their earshot before cursing God, fate, chance, doctors, life, one's self, one's spouse, mis-regulated cellular processes, etc. I am also acutely aware that a hundred years ago, or even sixty, my wife would be dead. This makes me very, very thankful for the fact that she's alive, even if it hurts her to laugh; also for modern medicine.
Posted at February 17, 2004 22:12 | permanent link