January 14, 2012             At the hospital

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Bonnie volunteers once a week at an acute care hospital. This hospital shelters many unfortunates; paraplegics and other extremely ill people.

We had some snow the night before so I drove her to the hospital. It is better for her to be thinking about what she will be doing at the hospital, rather than the slick roads. Since it is about 20 minutes one-way, I decided to stay rather than go home and come back. So I set up shop in a large waiting room with a notebook computer, a book and other things to keep me out of trouble.

The woman had been sitting off to one side of the waiting room, shuffling through some papers when she sprang up and headed for the reception clerk. A hushed discussion ensued, IDs checked, papers reviewed.  I could see a frown of concern on the clerks face and heard her say to the woman, “I’ll check with him and let you know. If you could take a seat. . .” The woman walked back to her chair and cautiously sat down.

She was well dressed, a long black, leather coat and those mid-calf boots with the buckles, black. A true woman in black. Appearing to be in her mid 50s, she had an anxious air about her. Her face was quite pale, a bit too much rouge, she hadn’t smiled for a long time. See, what a snoop I am? 

I was poking around the many hospital wi-fi networks, thinking about trying to hack into one, when suddenly she leaped to her feet and went over to the reception clerk. The clerk told her “He hasn’t called me back yet” Shoulders drooping, she returned to her chair. 

By this time, I was on to more honorable tasks when the clerk, putting down the phone, smiled at the woman. Leaping to her feet again, the woman raced across the room. I mean she leapt, completely out of character with her upper middle class appearance and her presence in this type of hospital.
The clerk gave her bad news. “He said there is really nothing he can do. . .”
“But I need them, I am going to die if I don’t have them!” the woman said in a voice halfway between imperial and desperate. “Let me talk to him. He’ll listen to me”.
“He has appointments and is very busy. I’m sorry. . .” The woman’s shoulders drooped again and she shuffled back to her chair, apparently at a loss as to the next step.

Tiring of the notebook, without the internet computers are a bore, I took it out to the car.  Grabbing another book from the car, I went back to the waiting room. Bonnie would be done soon.

Occupying the place I just left was a woman, a teen-age girl and a standard poodle. The poodle was an assistance dog wearing a vest complete with ID tag that showed a photo of the girl and the dog. The dogs name was “Daisy”, written in large Arial letters. While I am lukewarm about little poodles, I love standard poodles. They always look so bright and full of fun.

Daisy eyed me with large, liquid eyes. She then looked back towards the girl and immediately sat down, apparently without command. I said, “Now that’s a good dog” but got no response from anyone, including Daisy.

The pair, mom and daughter, were busy conferring, sharing papers. I saw an ID badge, a medical card, a lot of worry. Daisy, who by then had lain down, eyed the pair with concern, looking over at me, back to them. Daisy was clearly worried. I think that Daisy spent a lot of time being worried. I thought that Daisy could really use an afternoon just running around, chasing a ball, not being worried.

Suddenly, the woman in black leapt to her feet. I am serious; she had this curious little leap, completely out of character. With long strides, she swept past the reception clerk and disappeared down the hall.  The clerk buried in work didn’t notice.

Mom and daughter were quiet now, Daisy asleep. They were ready for what lay next. In my best spy mode, I looked at them closely.  Neither the daughter nor the mom appeared to be ill. The only clue was Daisy’s worry. Daisy knew there was a problem.

The receptionist called them, Daisy to her feet before either moved. All three disappeared down the hall.

A few minutes passed, I was into my book when the lady in black reappeared. She had a sheet of paper in hand and a prescription slip. Triumphantly, but unsmiling, she went to the reception window. A nurse had joined the reception clerk, apparently to talk to the woman in black. Despite my best cloak and dagger techniques, I could only grab snatches of conversation.
“It’s an improved treatment”
“I want my usual medicine”.
“It can be taken by mouth or it can be injected once a month. If we inject it, you’ll have to bring someone to drive you home”.
“I have no one that can come with me . . .”

On went the conversation. My attention wavered, my book called, I felt myself getting sleepy.

The woman in black went back to her chair. She sat quietly for a while, then leapt up and left the waiting room through the automatic doors to the outside. I went back to my book and read a few minutes. Then the automatic doors swung open and back in she came. She went to the unisex rest room off the waiting room, paused at the door, turned on her heel and went out the automatic doors and was seen no more.

Bonnie arrived shortly and we went home. I hope Daisy is OK.