Ridin' the halls, getting itchy

Hey, all. Sorry it's been a while, but we've been busy around here. We're amazed at how much time it takes to do so seemingly little. Mainly, we are hitching up Mr. Saul to a belt and a walker (sounds a little kinky, but hey, it passes for fun around here), and parading him up and down the hall. John is getting a little speedier, and went a little farther today than yesterday, but we're quite the show -- John with a gown in front and back to cover critical body parts, me following close behind with the IV pole, Mary Jo as sidekick and traffic director. We got a cheer at the nurses' station today. It ain't exactly Emerald Downs, but John surely feels rode hard and whipped when he's done.
We'll take one more ride in a little while, then let the poor man get back to his books and crosswords. He remains stiff, swollen, exhausted and quite irritated that he's still here. The release date keeps getting pushed away, but best guess now is Monday. He might get lucky and get out sooner, but I, for one, don't want to get ahead of ourselves. I'm done with Saul's stunts. In here, at least, he sorta kinda listens to me.
Moving up to the third floor has been something of a relief. Gone is the sense of living inside a Pinball machine where things constantly pong and ding and ping (one nurse compares it to working in a casino). Gone, too, are the frightening glimpses of many doctors in wing-shaped plastic masks frantically working over a patient nearby, the occasional screams of fear or agony or both, and the endless checking, poking, rolling and shining of lights in the eyes. The neuro sheriffs and their deputies have a routine of paces they put you through, at first every hour, then every two, and finally a blessed every four.  "What's your last name?" "Why are you here?" "Raise your eyebrows." "Show me a grin." "When's your birthday?" And on it goes. Mary Jo reports that the other night she heard John repeating in his sleep "July 13, 1948." Downstairs, he even started doing the routine along with the patient on the other side of the curtain! Such is the level of entertainment in this place.
And what a place it is. We have been aided, saved, questioned, confused, frightened and comforted by doctors named Ali and Salvatore, Laligam and Jeff, by old ones and young ones, and plenty with ponytails and lipstick, too. We've had nurses from Nigeria, Boston and somewhere south of the border, from Afghanistan and even Shoreline by way of Russia. I've seen gangsta-boys in their backward caps and baggy shorts bring in a buddy who could barely walk. Small, elegantly coiffed brown women in brilliant African robes. An angry, wild-eyed twentysomething hustled out past the guards around the metal detector at the ER entrance; a very old man in a blue duckbill hat shuffling into the cafeteria each morning to pick up a tray and eat alone among a sea of scrubs.
Up here, it's quieter, though there is one yeller who howled for a nurse over and over last night. I think they may have drugged him finally. It's been quieter since then.
We hang in a private room about as big as the average bathroom, jockeying things around at a fairly constant pace to get food to the bed, walkers off the shower door, newspapers in some kind of reasonable stack....We continue looking at your comments and reading your cards. Thanks, CeCe and Jennifer for encouraging my, uh, "b"havior. And Erin, glad you finally got in on the action. Sorry to miss your birthday, but we'll be together on Easter. And Lisa, I'm pretty sure we'll be around tomorrow if you and Martin can slip up in the late afternoon. We'll be working John on the walker pretty hard Saturday, so if you visit, think about making it around noon or late in the afternoon.
Pam, I can hardly wait for the pasta and the usual crowd at table in the usual spot! And finally, Jackie Broom, yes, you can pick your nose as long as you don't leave anything where we can see it! Thank you, too, for bringing up that incredibly generous gift from the gang at The Times. I've said it once, but I must say it again. Truly, I can't believe how lucky we are to have such smart, wicked, dedicated and caring comrades!
California family, I miss you all more than I can say. Come soon and play.
I'll be back tomorrow after the running of the moose.
xoxoxo, KT