So, I wrote this huge blog post today. It was upwards of 5000 words. And then when I hit "publish" instead of publishing, it disappeared. Deleted. Forever. Which basically made me want to die. So that was fun. But the truth is, I'm trapped in the hospital at the moment (YEP, HOSPITAL, but don't worry, I'm fine) and I have nothing else to do but try to rewrite it. So I'm gonna do that and post it in sections and we'll just see what happens. What have you to look forward to? Random musings, complaints about pregnancy, boring medical stuff, and jokes about Jose Canseco and butts. Hang on to *your* butts, folks. Here we go. It's probably going to be long and boring. Sigh.
I have a pretty good view. From my hospital room, I mean. Yep. Hospitalized! Didn't you read the preface? I ALREADY TOLD YOU THIS. I am in the hospital! WOMP. But don't worry, it sounds serious, but it isn't really. Probably. I hope. There's really no way to tell, but it's likely that everything will be fine. I am at risk of going into preterm labour, but that could mean, like, tomorrow, or it could mean in two weeks, or it might not happen at all. So, just ... don't panic. More will be explained about all that boring stuff in part three of this series. In the meantime, I'm just going to do some rambly rambling about my hospital room. There's nothing else to do, you see.
What was I saying? Oh yeah. I have a nice view. a strange view. Kind of a surprise. Here I am, fifteen stories up (in a semi-private room, with no roommate -- sweet!) getting a perspective on the city that is at once familiar, generic and completely alien. I can't make out any major landmarks. It's all just rooftops and treetops and towering incineration stacks that you'd think would be memorable, but aren't. There's a 'Where am I?' aspect to everything here that feels strange. All is both known and unknown.
I could be almost anywhere. Cincinnati. Detroit. New York. Vancouver. Chicago. Even Paris. Even London. Even Mumbai. I've been to all those places, and as long as you're not parked above or adjacent to a well-known, movie-famous skyline, this is what those cities look like. Maybe this is what every city looks like.
There are other things things to consider. The light, for one. Early morning. I only managed a couple hours of sleep last night, and I was wide awake at 6 am. That's not so bad. I've always liked the dawn of the day, I just rarely manage to see it. Early mornings are reserved for special occasions. Vacation departures. Sports travel. Unpleasant illnesses that seem to be worse in the dark. Dawn is less a reality than a memory for me. It calls to mind September, 1998, my first week at Queen's. It is the wash of colour that hit the Interstate highway in Wyoming, June of 2007. When the first rays hit the buildings across the way this morning, they turned the exact amber of the my elementary school windows, track and field trials, May, 1989. Dawn is those things for me.
As seasoned (even just slightly seasoned) parents keep telling me, with a baby, this will likely change. Whatever. For now, let me have my thing, okay? (No, like, seriously. Stfu for a minute, already-parents. I know you popped one out. We ALL get it. You don't have a PHD in my life just yet, though. So scale it back, eh?)
A hospital, in so many ways, is like a hotel. Isn't it? (Okay, a motel, but it's way better than many of the motels I've stayed at over the years.) You're here and you've gone some place else. Its smells are the smells of Away-From-Home. I am in such good shape, I am actually enjoying it. (I know this is a privilege. In triage yesterday, three different women cycled through the adjacent space -- one who vomited at least 15 times, another who couldn't stop moaning, and a third who was clearly in so much pain, the only sounds she could make were exactly like the terrifying rattley rasps you hear from zombies on The Walking Dead. I'd have laughed if I hadn't felt so sorry for her. Nathan was bugging out as she paced the halls, like he thought she was going to burst through the curtain and eat his entrails or something. Poor Nathan. Poor HER.
By contrast, I am feeling good, so I have the privilege of enjoying things while I'm here. I am particularly liking the slightly rough linens and towels, They're so dry and crisp, trailing the vague scent of institutional detergent. Everything's so damn clean, which is nice, but best of all ... I didn't have to wash any of it myself! That's a good feeling. Again, it's not unlike being on holiday.
Is that sad? That being in the hospital is reminding me of being on vacation? I don't know.
Anyway, that's it for my random musings section. Part two will be about me complaing about being pregnant in general. Super fun. Get ready.