Doc Hop

I know a lot of you have been wondering how things went with my mom this weekend, so even though I’m tired after a long production day, I thought I’d provide an update.

I left on Friday. After biking and bussing about seven miles in the wrong direction, I had to take a taxi to Miami’s Amtrak station in order to make my train. (I actually have a decent sense of direction, but what am I supposed to do if the address Google Maps gave me happened to be for a station that hasn’t existed for years?)

Addam hung around until I had to call a cab, then saw me off. After 20 minutes and $20 I made it to the station, about an hour before my train was set to depart. In my rush I had forgotten to pick up anything to eat for the trip, but I was able to raid a vending machine for some Wheat Thins, which happened to be the only vegan-friendly option in the entire station.

I’ve never taken the Amtrak before, but it was actually really convenient. As soon as I walked in a man checked my baggage, and as soon as the train arrived attendants started directing people to their seats.

I got an aisle seat on the way in, but switched to a window after a stop or two, much to the irritation of one of the train attendants. I’m sorry, but I had articles to write and needed to be near an outlet. Plus, I hate making small talk with people, and it’s easier to fall asleep when you can lean against a window. I did, however, meet this pretty cool old lady who spent about an hour telling me about her days working as a flight attendant in the ’60s. She got to meet Jackie Kennedy and Perry Como. And she can still fly free.

I left Miami around 11:50 a.m. and got to Tampa around 5:30 p.m., so it wasn’t too bad of a trip. The hospital was only two miles from the station, so as soon as I got my bags I took a cab over to Tampa General.

I guess I should have expected it, but I hadn’t really thought about the fact that my mom was in isolation and that I’d have to completely sanitize myself before coming into the room. After robing up in gloves, plastic scrubs and a face mask, I was allowed to go in and finally see her.

My mom’s doing pretty well. She’s participating in a breathing study and had to undergo treatment every eight hours. I don’t really know anything about it, but nurses would hook her up to a mask that released some sort of chemical into her face for two hours at a time. She won’t know if it was a placebo or actual medicine for a bit, but either way she’s helping out with medical research. And doing much better.

Like I said before, my mom has RSV, which is usually something that only kids get, but since her immunity broke down after her transplant, she caught it. She seemed pretty tired but in good spirits. It was nice just to sit down and talk to her again. Watch TV and bitch about the family. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed the little things. We’re doing much better now and both know that we have someone in our corner.

Brian and Scott, my Aunt Martha’s sons, picked me up from the hospital and drove me back to my aunt’s house. We picked up some Shanghai Express on the way, which I’ve missed since my days at Morgan Fitzgerald, struggling to fit in and pull all A’s in a Florida middle school. (The grades came much easier than the fitting in.)

Back at Aunt Martha’s everyone sat down and ate before Brian took off to pick up his daughter, Briana. Brian, Scott and Briana introduced me to Fact or Faked and Modern Family, both of which I highly recommend. After sharing ghost stories and generally freaking each other out, we called it a night and I headed to bed.

I spent the majority of Saturday at the hospital with my mom, watching movies and ordering her meals for the next day. I had dinner there myself, which was a little bland, but better than expected. After a long evening Scott picked me up and took me back to my aunt’s, where I spent the night looking through old photos and having a very long, very meaningful conversation with the very special Emily Evans. (Thank you.)

My train was supposed to leave at 12:45 p.m. on Sunday, but it was delayed two hours, so I spent a good majority of the afternoon trying to catch a few z’s on a wooden bench. The train started boarding around 2:45 p.m., and since I was assigned a window seat I literally slept the entire ride home.

After lugging my 80 lb. suitcase seven blocks to the nearest bus stop, I waited 30 minutes before the L finally came by. While waiting for the 9,  a cab driver offered me a free ride, which I quickly accepted. Only, two minutes after taking off I realized I had ignorantly left my purse at the stop.

The driver turned around and got me back to the stop  right in time to find a homeless man frantically digging through my bag. I don’t know what got into me, maybe it was all the adrenaline I had built up during my hectic weekend, but before I knew it I was hopping out of the still-moving cab and pulling my bag from his greedy fingers. I took my five dollars and, just for the hell of it, gave his a quick jab to the chest. I looked through my purse before the cab driver let him leave, and then I graciously accepted a ride back to my apartment.

I gave the cabbie the $5 for having my back and for being so kind, then flew into my apartment for some much needed R and R.

I’m happy to report that my mom is finally out of the hospital, at home and feeling much better! It was scary there for a second, but she’s starting to feel stronger. I know that in anytime she’ll be back to her normal self again. Thanks, in great part, to all of your thoughts and prayers. Really — you’ve all been incredibly supportive and will never know know how much your kindness has helped us during these difficult times.

“A hospital is no place to be sick.” — Samuel Goldwyn, movie producer (1882-1975).