Visiting people in the hospital can be difficult. Hospitals are scary places. They are full of people in pain. I think the easiest hospital visit is for the actual patients. They are the stars of the show. They have physical pain, and that’s easy to deal with. Stop the blood. Medicate. The hardest part is for the family. The ones that are trying to stand with the patient and are told that they can’t. The waiting in lobbies and sitting on uncomfortable chairs. The waiting for the bathroom, and seeing the blood on the floors. Looking at others and wondering what their loved ones are doing. The phone calls to tell people what happened. What is happening. That you don’t know what’s going on. And you don’t know how it happened. The feeling that this may be the last time you get to spend with someone. That feeling of regret.
Regret is a bitch. Hospital Emergency rooms are full of regret. I would put money on most tears spilled in hospitals are from people that want more time, then realize what time they wasted, because the time may be out.
Then surprise, the person has pulled through! Of course they pulled through.
Despite all of the health care drama, we live in a country that has the best trauma care in the world. You can call 911, shoot yourself in the head, and probably wake up in a hospital. Dying is hard in the USA, we have the methods to keep you alive, bring you back to life, and definitely bill you for it.
So your folks will probably pull through from whatever happened. Then people hear about it and there’s a panic that usually goes:
“Oh my God! He’s in the hospital! Is he OK? How long is he there for? What happened?”
Then the question that always comes up, and has yet to really make sense.
“Does he need anything?”
It’s asked with such earnestness, as if there is some special medicine that a Tibetan holy man produces once a year, and its only served at sunrise on the the 13th day of each leap february. And they have to get it. Medical care ain’t Zelda.
They probably don’t need anything.
Once people find out that any one of those things are bad news, the HAVE to get there and see them.
They HAVE to.
And now I ask, why?
Why do they have to see them now?
Because they may be close to the end and you didn’t see them before?
Regrets.
Two 30 minute conversations over coffee is worth way more than an hour long visit to look at a person in pain.
A person that may on the way out of this life. That person is bandaged up, drugged up, probably confused and has been swamped with visitors all day. You seeing them now is cool, but I’ll bet they would much rather it be during a time that they are wearing underwear.
Gran-Gran always said that she didn’t want flowers at her funeral.
“If you want to give me flowers, give them to me when I’m alive and can smell them.”
Flowers at the funeral is about as good as apologizing to the corpse for a mistake. They can’t thank you. Forgive you. Laugh it off and ask if you want sugar or sweet-n-low.
So don’t wait until your friends are hemmed up to give them a call. Give the same urgency to the need to listen to them, to talk to them, and to connect with them. While they can still smell the flowers. That way when you hear that they are in the hospital you can ask simply
“Is he ready for visitors?”
And be there when he is.
It’s good to have a goal, this HAS to be one of mine. I HAVE to.