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A Change Is As Good As A Holiday
Frankie
Thescentofsterilizedhalls hit me with the force of a freight train as I walked through the sliding doors and into the cool lobby of the hospital. The front desk took up most of the space, with three receptionists fielding queries from patients and their families.
I hated hospitals.
The extreme cleanliness comforted the tiny germaphobe in me, but the chemicals stinging the air forced an unnatural sense of unease onto me. Too many sick people, ailments, and maladies floating in the air around me.
Worse, I thought, was the idea that people often took their final breaths in hospitals.
It sent a chill spider walking down my spine and I shoved it aside, plastering a smile on my face as I reached the front desk.
“Evening, how can I help you?”
I looked at the young man, his dark, shaggy hair pulled out of his face by a handful of colorful butterfly clips. His name tag said ‘Steff’ and where there should have been a blank, white space around his name, there was an explosion of color. Rainbows, little suns with sunglasses, and a tiny unicorn.
I wondered if he worked in the children’s ward.
“Hi, I’m here to visit my mom,” I said. “The name is Ivey, she’s in ward nine on the third floor.”
“You know your way around, I like it!” He clacked away on the mechanical keyboard, the sound a little jarring in the quiet lobby. “Here’s your visitor’s pass. Shout if you need anything else.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, pulling the lanyard over my head and around my neck.
I made my way up to the third floor and spotted Dad sitting in one of the metal chairs just outside the ward. I jogged the rest of the way and the new beaded necklace (a gift from V’s kids) jangled around my neck.
“Hi Dad,” I said softly, making sure to keep my voice low so I didn’t disturb any of the patients.
“Hey, poppet,” he whisper-shouted. He got up, wincing when a few of his joints popped in protest, and pulled me into a tight hug. “How are you?”
“I’m okay,” I told him, savoring the instant serotonin boost that only came from hugging my dad. “How are you? How’s Mom doing?”
“As good as we can hope for,” he said, the lines around his mouth deepening with a frown.
I took the chance to really look at him, noting the rumpled blue shirt and plaid trousers that I faintly remembered him wearing to bed. His graying hair was unkempt, as if he’d spent hours raking his hands through it.
Worst of all, his cheeks were hollow, his eyes sunken from lack of sleep.
“Dad,” I said reproachfully. The glimmer in his eye told me he knew exactly where I was going. “You need to take better care of yourself, please. Mom is well taken care of here, but she’d have a fit if she saw you looking this haggard.”
“You’re supposed to say nice things to your old man,” he grunted. “Not tell him how awful he looks.”
“No, you don’t look awful.” I chuckled, unable to help myself. I sat in the seat beside his and pulled him down next to me. “You just look like you’re in need of some serious rest and a huge meal. When was the last time you ate?”
“Last night,” he answered, pressing his lips into a thin line. “But it’s difficult to remember when your mom is here. At home, it’s easier because I like cooking for her. But here, she’s eating hospital food.”
He said the last two words with a grimace of disgust, and I rubbed his upper arm soothingly.
“I know,” I said. “But you have to make sure you’re healthy when Mom is discharged. Otherwise, who’s gonna cook for her?”
He rolled his eyes and shrugged my hand off petulantly. “I hate when you’re right,” he grouched, and I smiled. “Enough about me. I’m a grown man and can take care of myself.”
I lifted disbelieving brows at that, but he ignored me and continued, “How are things at the store?”
That question punched a hole in my growing happiness.
“It’s, uh.” I stumbled, looking for the right words. I couldn’t lie, but I also didn’t want him to know that it wasn’t going too well. “It’s definitely an adjustment.”
