Monday, November 07, 2011
When we got to the hospital the walls were soupy pea green to match the smell in the air. They made us put on plastic before we could enter the room, plastic over our shoes and hair and aprons and gloves to wear. I took mine off, they felt cruel and cold. He was there but not there, he looked different but the same. Something about the eyes. Something about the face. Something about the way he wasn't there any more. He looked into the distance, drooled, smiled. We went back some time later, days, weeks. The last time we went back he wasn't looking or drooling any more. He just lay there. We talked to him like he could hear. I don't think he could.