Adventures in Gastronomy

I went to the hospital to visit my niece on Sunday. A week after her surgery she was still in the ICU (actually, the PICU since she’s pediatric). Because of my class schedule and such, this was my first opportunity to visit her since the operation. When I got there, my brother and sister-in-law were in the space with the baby, who was sleeping (heavily medicated with pain relievers).

Shortly after my visit, my brother lifted the baby’s gown so that I could see the incision. Now, the last time they did this operation there were stitches for a few inches. The plan was to cut along the same scar this time around. Well, apparently that wasn’t enough because this tiny two year old baby had 20 metal taples (and countless stitches underneath) going from one side of her belly to the other. It had to be at least 8 or 9 inches long. It seriously looked as if they had just ripped her in half and bent her backwards.

She woke up about an hour after my arrival. Because she’s unable to eat solids still, and her body isn’t relieving itself properly, she still has the 5 tubes going into/out of her stomach for feeding and relieving. In addition, they installed a somewhat permanent catheter into her girly parts and, worst of all, a tube that goes from her intestines, through her throat and out her nose. This is a secondary tube for sucking out stomach fluids which, for her, are highly acidic. ugh.

She has to have oxygen pumped into her nostrils since the tube in her throat inhibits proper breathing. Obviously, the baby’s instinct is to pull out the tubes so on top of everything else, her arms are wrapped in this tight casting so that she can’t bend them to access the tubes. Essentially, she’s stuck on her side or back with her arms straight out from her, with a 9 inch scar of staples and stitches across her stomach, 5 tubes coming out of a surgically installed port in her stomach, one tube coming out of her nose and oxygen tubes going into each nostril. Oh, and one of the medications for either pain or infection is causing a rash on her chest and face.

Fortunately, the Elmo videos seem to keep her entertained when she’s awake. And a few hours after I left, she was taken out of PICU and sent to a normal room at the hospital. The scars, wires and tubes make her look awful, but she’s apparently a fighter and the doctors say she’s doing well.

After the hospital, I went to Francesca’s Cafe…a gay coffeehouse in the South End. I had a cookie and San Pellegrino while studying for my mid-term exam. I think I should have gone to the library to study, though. It’s just not my scene. I’m not relaxed enough for coffeehouses. I keep thinking I should get up to give my table to other people. I’m just not relaxed. The fact that I don’t drink coffee probably doesn’t help. But I never know if I pay at the table or the counter. I don’t know what the time limit is to occupy a table. At this place, apparently, they actually come to your table to take an order (versus ordering at a counter…which they have, but only for take-out). I had four different people help me (the counter guy who told me they have table service, a person who gave me the cookie, a separate person who gave me my water, and a fourth person to give me my check). Oh, actually, there were 5 people because I paid at the counter. I don’t get it. I like simple things.

Which brings me to Walmart. Has anybody noticed that TV commercials for Walmart make it seem like the Disneyland of discount retail? Every person shopping or working at Walmart on TV has a permanent shit-eating grin. It’s always sunny and perfect in Walmart-World. I want to live in that world! However, there are no Walmarts on Cape Cod so I never went to one as a kid. And there are no Walmarts in Boston that I can get to, either. When we lived in great outer suburbia (the North Shore) there was one in Peabody or Danvers. But I don’t think it was representative of the chain…it was like Walmart’s evil step-mother: old, dirty, smelly, and the customers and employees looked nothing like the perfect people in their commercials. The time Matt and I went there we exited just as quickly as we walked in, sprinted to the car, sat down, shut (and locked) the doors, looked at each other and said “I’m never going back there!” I think we could sue Walmart for false-advertising.

November 1st, 2004
Categories: Uncategorized . Author: snarl

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