Rambling Thoughts From a Hospital Room

I got my sister home from the hospital about 7:30 yesterday evening. So, all's well that ends well.

Hopefully, all ended well, but we won’t know that until all has healed without infection.
All’s well that heals well?

While sitting in her hospital for room for mostly of eleven hours I had a few rambling random thoughts about the joint:

There are a lot of nurses and technicians on the staff that speak with accents. I asked the lady that came in often to check my sister’s vitals where was she from and she told me Kenya. I noticed she was very sincere about her work. She was really dedicated. She calls her parents often on calling cards she buys – she said it is the cheapest way. Her mother just had another baby, which the next youngest one is a 20 year old brother. I was thinking she spoke perfect English, but yet she had yet picked up on the American native’s reversal of the English language. Like “Thanks a lot!” if someone does something to you that does not please you, why would you thank him? And I can’t imagine her saying, “I know that’s right!” with the gusto it is intended. She would more likely say, “Of course I know that is right.”

A custodian man that was kept the hallway spotless and shiny I thought had a foreign accent. But finally, I determined he has a thick Cajun accent. He is probably a Katrina tossed aside. Every chance he got he would flirt with the Kenya lady. I think he had a crush on her.

One lady that came by often was the nurse and was also very efficient and devoted to her job. She was laid back and casual and had a great sense of humor. And I think she is beginning to show she is in a family way, but would not dare ask her. There was a lady someplace nearby that would scream and holler and accuse the nurses of doing a bad job. I asked this nurse about the wailing woman and she laughed and said, “Bless her heart, I just don’t think she is all there.”

That is another expression I noticed southerners use a lot when they might feel superior to someone: “Bless his/her heart.”

In 1950 my grandfather died in the old hospital, which was no more than a little small building with only about three doctors and a handful of nurses. He was one of the last people to die there. No more than a few weeks later I broke my arm and was admitted to the new Kennestone Hospital when it first opened. Then it was two stories high for white people and the basement was for the black people. I know that doesn’t sound very equal, but it was a step forward comparing to the Old Hospital where they were not allowed as patients at all.

Now, Kennestone has grown to about seven or eight stories high and takes up a big block, and they also owns several specialty buildings on surrounding blocks. It has thousands of people on its payroll. I read within a week that it has the busiest ER in the state of Georgia. A company called Wellstar bought them out, so now it is Kennestone-Wellstar.

My parents died at Kennestone/Wellstar Hospital. My father-in-law died there as many uncles, aunts, cousins, and in-laws.

Thinking of all the deaths that the hospital hosted got me wondering about the hereafter. Are there really ghosts? And if so, one belief is that the spirit remains in the area or room that he or she died in. In that case it is probable that at least one person has died in the room we were in. If so, were they aware of us or just floating around moaning and groaning like stereotype ghosts? Do they stay up near the ceiling and look down, as people claim they did when they clinically died on the operating table – would I be out of line to look and give them a warm wave? Or, if more than one spirit is occupying the room do they realize each one’s presence? and if that is the case to they sat around and tell each other their stories? And do they speculate on the patient lying on the bed –“why is she there?” and probably more importantly: “Look at that Kenya lady’s ass!”