alternative hippopotamus

progressive cyberdadaism from our nation’s capital

June 30, 2007

The Appointment

by AltHippo @ 12:54 am. Filed under Uncategorized

At 9:15 this morning I left my apartment in NW Washington. There’s no easy way of getting from my part of town to Georgetown University Hospital. The campus, which is part of the University complex, is on Reservoir Road, a few blocks from anywhere easy to get to. So, I took my bike. With some trepidation, I’ll add, when I did the same trip a month ago my bike was stolen. Not at the hospital complex, I reasoned, so this should be okay.

People watch the bike racks at Georgetown Hospital. Guards, sometimes, but you can see others standing conspicuously, making sure that your bike is safe. If you are at the hospital, it’s for a reason, and the last thing anyone wants to see is insult added to whatever injury you may be there for in the first place.

There’s a voicemail on my cellphone. It’s from my mother who has the worst cellphone in the universe. The message goes: “crackle, crackle, not, crackle, different, go the place, crackle, from last time.” I try to call back, but to save her phone’s battery, which dies out after a few minutes of the phone being turned on, my mother turns it off. Later, I suggested that she look into something that’s more like my cellphone, which saves power unless someone is calling you. She points out that her cellphone costs $10 a month, while mine costs $60. She has a point. If you really want to talk to someone, the truth is, you find a way.

I walk into the main entrance and whisper the name of the doctor I’m there to see. “What’s his area?” the woman asks. “Cancer.” She tells me that I need to go to the Lombardi wing. That makes sense to me, as my mother’s message referred to the “last time” which was the Lombardi wing. A cordial man, who is clearly part of the security establishment at the hospital tells me that I need to sign in first, and things can happen from there. “It’s not for me,” I say, “it’s for my brother.”

“I see,” he said. “Then you can wait here.” Then I tried to explain the cryptic voicemail I got from my mother. He gives me a room number, which I’m sure is the wrong one, but he’s very insistent. “I’m pretty sure… ” I said. But, he’s not going to take my mother’s cryptic voicemail for an answer. I have to go to the room number that he’s telling me to go to. So I do.

When I get to the room, another polite person gives me directions to the Lombardi wing. Here’s what she said: “Go down this hall as far as you can go. Then you do a kind of turn. Then you keep going. Keep going. Very end of the building. Then you’ll find an elevator that will take you to the 5th floor.”

That was exactly right, by the way. But on the way I read all the posters on the wall. There was something about how all the doctors needed to turn in their pagers, and something called a “Grand Tour.” I got on an elevator with a group of doctors discussing their patients symptoms in a fashion that I’ll call: “Bad elevator conversation,” for lack of a better term.

On the fifth floor there was my brother, Scott. My mother was next to him. As soon as I saw Scott, I knew he didn’t have a long time in this world. My mother has also known this, but it’s not something any of us have been able to say openly.

We were shown into a very small room. So small that all of us were just trying to find a place to stand or sit. Scott sat on the corner of the hospital bed, and tried as best as he could to take us all in.

First the nurse came in. She looked at the charts and noted that Scott had come in a few months ago looking jaundiced. He was obviously much better now, she said. She was trying to make us feel a little better. Then she asked: “What is Scott here for today?”

My mother went over what’s been going on. At first she agreed that he’s doing better, then went through all the things that Scott has been going through. Bouts of Pneumonia, problems with his pacemaker, no eating, constant pain. While this was going was going on, I asked Scott if I could look at his watch. While I was holding his wrist in my hand, it was clear to me that he didn’t recognize me.

The nurse excused herself, and we talked amongst ourselves. My mother just bought a new hard drive for her computer. From Target, where she got Scott’s new watch. I told her after last time, when my bike was stolen, I got a lock as heavy as the bike itself. It’s the small talk that we all have around life and death.

Then the doctor came in. He had operated on Scott in the past. He saw Scott, and said at once that we’ve got to this and that right away. My mother asked: “What should we expect?”

The doctor said: “You mean survival? For people in this condition, a year.” He emphasized that he was not an oncologist.

Back in the reception area we were making appointments for the next steps. My mother asked Scott about what he would do on the 4th of July. He didn’t want to answer the question. I believe what he said was: “Then it will all be done.” My mother was sure that he said: “Then I will be dying.”

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3 Responses to “The Appointment”

  1. CE Petro Says:
    July 1st, 2007 at 1:45 pm

    I’m sorry to hear this.

  2. eRobin Says:
    July 1st, 2007 at 10:56 pm

    I’m very sorry as well. I’ll be thinking of you and your family.

  3. KathyF Says:
    July 3rd, 2007 at 2:48 pm

    What a poignantly told story, but one I’m very sad to hear.

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