I’m going to put the p.s. up here because maybe it belongs there: typing all this out got me to realize that part of the problem could have been how immigrant nurses have been treated in this country the last few months and thus how many are no longer there. But on with the story.

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Come 11:30 for the 1:00, they said.

Well that’s a nuisance. (It was rather late in the day for the don’t-eat-don’t-drink.)

You know hospitals always do that, I answered.

People came. Patients got taken back. People left. People came back to pick up their family member being wheeled out. We sat there.

1:00 became 2:00. Finally they took him back and the nurse said she’d come get me as soon as he was all set up.

Right, I knew the drill, he gets into the hospital gown and they do all the set up, you kiss each other goodbye, you go back out to the waiting room and they call you when he comes to.

They didn’t do any of that.

The receptionist who’d checked us in left for the day minutes after we arrived and left her station unmanned.

Pretty soon it was just me sitting alone in that room, knitting away. A few hours in, I put down the knitting and picked up my book. You know how some books, you finish them and immediately start them right over because they’re that good? This emphatically will not be one of them. Oh well.

One guy came in and looked around and around, staring at the desk: why was nobody there? His distress was obvious so I spoke up, to his relief. But they called me! he said. Then they’ll be wheeling her out soon, I assured him. About ten minutes later that same nurse did.

And again assured me Richard would be soon. I said to her, it has been five hours since I’ve seen a bathroom and where on earth is one???

Oh, it’s right over there! (Ie between the inner and outer doors to outside. You don’t often see double sets of doors in California because we don’t have terrible weather but that building did. Hello? Could we please please add some signs?) Okay, I told her, thanks!

And then nothing.

The lights in the room suddenly dimmed and stayed dimmed. Oh thanks.

I needed to refill my water bottle and was glad I could now. I looked at those inner doors: I did not trust them. But I had to have that water and there was no other source.

It was after 5:00 and yes, I got locked out of the building. But, but, but, this is where I have to be for them to come get me to go be with my husband!

I stood there outside the glass doors thinking what on earth am I supposed to do, when at last two orderlies pushing carts walked past at the far side of the room. I tapped on the window and explained my plight. They stopped (bless them), tracked down permission and opened the door for me and disappeared quickly.

Five and a half hours. The second half entirely alone other than that brief encounter. There wasn’t even bad cafeteria food to retreat to: I had been told twice that I’d be called for any time now and this was a small building away from the main hospital building. (They seem to be connected in back these days with all the new construction.)

All I can figure is, they had told Richard yesterday that they would call and he had explained that texting is a better way to reach me because I can’t hear. But texting isn’t in their habit pattern and they simply forgot–but either way, I certainly wasn’t allowed to go through those patient doors by myself to go looking for him. I, meantime, was busy stomping down all kinds of thoughts like did he have a heart attack and they’re too busy trying to save his life to go get me.

When at long last I got their attention and got escorted back there, I sent a note to our Mormon bishop, who had wanted to know how things were going. The answer to that medically was, it was a worst-case scenario of what had been but a best-case scenario of what could have happened if they didn’t stop it now.

But I told him I had never encountered a situation like today’s.

He sympathized–and, it turns out, he was sure his friend the CEO of that hospital would want to hear the story.