It's official. Dr. Kent made his obligatory visit at 6:48 a.m. and pronounced me ready to go home as soon as the paperwork could be finalized, which should happen sometime around 8:30. He came bearing gifts, which was uncharacteristically kind of him. His wife, who has been my friend through all the ups and downs of my relationship with her son, had made three pajama/nightgown sets for me -- one for our warmer weather, one for our cooler weather, and one for in-between. Her kindness is not at all surprising; I just wonder where she found the time to sew them, as she has five kids younger than Jared, and the youngest is just two, plus she's getting ready for the four-year-old's birthday party tomorrow.
The really peculiar thing was that he had bought a gift for me himself, presumably from the hospital gift shop. It isn't exactly age appropriate -- it's a stuffed animal -- but: A) it's the thought that counts; B) I don't have any stuffed animals left from childhood because the few I was hanging onto were accidentally thrown out in our last move; and C) it's a panda -- black and white -- which blends in with the black, white, and pink motif of my bedroom. It's somewhat large, and cannot have been cheap, as hospital gift shops are known for virtual highway robbery when it comes to prices. The choice wasn't even a coincidence, as he commented on how he thought it would match my room. I don't think I've ever been given a present from a doctor who was my doctor as opposed to a doctor who's my relative and somewhat obligated. I was very touched by his generosity and thoughtfulness.
Instead of coming across like his usual cross between Vince Lombardi and Dr. Strangeglove, he was nice when giving me his instructions and actually acted as though he wants me to get better and not just like he doesn't want to have to be bothered with seeing me in his office or in the hospital again. He told me to call him at work or at home if I had any concerns, even if my parents were reluctant to do so. I don't think he or hardly any other doctor except my shrink, Dr. Jeff, AKA Chairman Mao, has ever been nice to me when my parents weren't in the room. (Of course my uncles are nice, but they have to be because they're my uncles.) The whole experience rather took me by surprise.
The director of nurses, a nice lady named Olive who's a friend of the family, sent my Aunt Joanne home at abut 6:00 when she came on duty. Olive said she'd run the hospital from my room and wouldn't let anyone give me anything to eat that she hadn't cooked and wouldn't allow any medication to be given to me until she had personally inspected it.
My breakfast has just arrived. I'll eat it, and by the time I've finished, the paperwork for my release should be typed up and ready. This will be the first time I've ever signed my own release papers from a hospital, as I've always been a minor before. I usually insist on wearing real clothing home, but I've decided there's little point in it. I'll just pick out one of my new nightgowns and put it on. Then I'll be ready to get back into bed at home without changing again and needlessly tiring myself out. If someone thinks I'm being slovenly or lazy, he or she can take a flying leap into shark-infested waters. Sharks sightings have been reported off the coastlines of several of our local beaches.
I'll share a quick picture of my new panda. I haven't named him yet, but I will eventually. All my stuffed animals used to have names.
|This is the newest addition to my family. I hope my dog is not jealous.|