Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Group

Last night, it was the 4th Monday of the month.
Support group at the hospital.
Made my way downtown (alone) and got there a little early.
Decided to pay a little visit to my floor and say hello.
On the way, I passed through the hallways
I was pushed through in a wheelchair every day last summer.

Memories.
As I walked towards the elevator,
I passed the cafeteria
and a cart was wheeled in front of me.
Loaded high with dinner trays.
I caught a whiff of some awful, over-cooked vegetable 
and nearly dry-heaved.
I clutched my McDonald's cup in my hand ever so tightly and said a quick prayer, thanking God for the fries and cheeseburger I had just put down, asking for forgiveness because I was not completely happy with it and had been wishing it was In-n-Out.
I promise I won't forget what I had to endure every meal just a mere 7-8 months ago.

Got upstairs and chatted with friends,
its scary how comfortable I still feel there.
I guess that is good just in case I ever end up in that jail cell of a room again.
Made to to group eventually.
I think talking with all the other doctors and nurses is more of a positive therapy sometimes. I also ran into a doctor who made rounds to me every morning. I remember her being so nice and I had to say hi. She actually remembered me and she knew how it all played out, even though I don't remember seeing her the last week or two I was there.
I'm glad I stopped to say hi though.

Seeing faces I only associate with the hospital isn't nearly as bad as it sounds. It helps me to feel closer to him. It helps me to see all the people that came into my life despite everything...
and no one can ever say they have too many friends.
And in a strange way, I get back that feeling of how it used to be
even it was for only 8 weeks.
Before he died,
before we changed forever...
and I get this feeling again,
just for a few moments, that settles in my stomach
making me think that for a minute,
it just might be okay.
But other than those brief moments...
I don't really feel it too much like I did then
waking up every morning,
just knowing there was still a chance:
hope.

And I have forgotten what that feels like. 
Then when I get that emotion for just a brief second,
I realize just how much I miss the old me.

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