Part Two

Continued from Wednesday ...

In 1986 at Akron City Hospital, I had a roommate, Barbara.  She had surgery for Crohn's Disease the morning after I did and we shared our space for probably ten days.

Barbara was married to Bill and they had grown children.  They lived in Randolph, a lovely little rural community which seemed to suit Barbara very well.  She was a country girl through and through.  During the time when Barbara was in the hospital, people from her church stopped by, and they really were witnesses to the power of the Christian faith to transform.  True, many of them were already on the floor visiting a young man who had been involved in a car-train accident, but nonetheless, they came.

It seemed to me as though Barbara came through her surgery very well.  She was discharged the day before me, and so for a little while, until Sunday night, there was no one.  Then an older woman, heavy set, was wheeled in.  She lived in a trailer park, and I learned while not meaning to eavesdrop, the story of her recent life experiences.  That same night a resident came in to take her history.  Who would think that it would have played out like a comedy scene from Saturday Night Live?

The poor woman was hard of hearing and so the resident tried to make her voice as loud as she could, "How old are you?"  The woman gave an answer, but it was never the answer to the question the resident asked, and in fact, it was a complete accounting of how she found herself at City Hospital.  "Waaal, I was in the toilet and I tried to stand up.  Theeen, I fell down and I tried to get up, but I couldn't."  The resident tried again, "So have you had any surgeries?"  The woman spoke right up, "And theennn, I called and called.  I laid there for a long time until my neighbor finally heard me."

The resident and another hospital employee started laughing at some point, and they couldn't stop.  They tried, they really did, but between the woman's story telling and her bit of a southern twang, it was impossible not to react.  I know I did.  My stitches were healed up pretty well, but I gave them a good test and by the time it was over, there were tears of laughter running down my cheeks.  Laughter, it is certainly true, is GOOD for the soul.

After the resident left, they brought the woman a roast beef sandwich and something to drink.  She had to lie flat on her back to eat, so I got up and helped her arrange the sandwich on top of her chest, and I fixed the straw so she could get her drink.  Then I got back in bed.  After spending all that time on the bathroom floor, she must have really been hungry because at that point, it sounded like wild animals had come into the room and had found a stash.  It's a good thing the doctor and her assistant were gone by that point because the laughter would have started all over again.  But the woman was such a sweet, sweet lady, and so happy with whatever life brought her, moment to moment. 

The next morning, I left the hospital.  My roommate was off to some other area of the hospital having tests and such.  They knew she had broken a bone in her back.  I didn't get to say goodbye, but I thought of her often. 

Barbara lost her battle with Crohn's Disease.  Her daughter sent me a note when my Christmas card arrived one year, and her mother had gone onto to her reward.  Whenever Randolph comes up, the first thing that comes to mind is Barbara.

Funny how we go through life and meet up with folks in all kinds of places.  When I see young people walking around in a fog on their cell phones, I want to scream, "You are missing a huge chunk of life on that thing!!  Hang up and experience the world."