Well, another day spent in the hospital. A shorter and cooler one. The older I get, the more it stresses me out that seasons are a metaphor for life and death. Do I really have to be reminded of this and check off another box in the allotted time for life chart ever three months? Maybe not. Maybe I should just not think about it like most people. Probably.
So today in the hospital, I took care of two men--hospital neighbors--who were both mentally retarded and had both come from their usual group residence because their brains had started bleeding. Wierd, huh? I thought so. I felt sorry for them. They were both old and had probably had hard lives already, so I wonder if this was almost a merciful end for them? Death. Hard.
Darn it we're back on fall again.
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