Desert Sand Mica

Whatever, just crash it Bob...


Kind of a trying day.

The surgery went well, took about 2 hours. I spent 13 hours in Cindi's room wondering why nurses appear to not give a shit. I don't know why we hold them to higher standards in their employment, but we do. They're just working, trying to get their shit done and go home. But we want them to care as much as we do, and they don't. And it shows.

Cindi's having the typical after surgery maladies...nausea, etc. Getting up and walking around is a huge chore. My mom was there this morning, along with Cindi's friend Cyndi, they both left around 11:30. Then a little bit after that a friend of Cindi's came by, and another friend this evening. That was nice.

I feel wrung out and completely drained. Even though all I've done is sit in a hospital chair for 13 hours. I read 120 pages of my book.

I found it strange that a hospital has a grand piano and a man playing it (beautifully) in the lobby. I felt like I was at Furr's Cafeteria.
A good looking man walking down the hall with a catheter and a bag with pee in it becomes somehow, less attractive.
No one in the hospital is in a hurry to get anywhere.
I think it would be quicker to crawl up 5 flights of stairs with a vice on your back than take the hospital elevator.
People are funny to talk to when they are coming out of anethesia.
It's hard for patients to sleep when someone is moaning loudly down the hall for an hour.
Nurses stop talking about who's in the morgue when they discover your presence.
All True.

I need to go and pack a bag, leaving early in the morning to go back to the hospital, hopefully take Cindi home and then spend the night over there tomorrow night.

Mark's being such a damn sweetie.

Lator gators.


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