Revisit

"Don't panic!!! I'm in the hospital...."

Ten years. It had been ten years since I'd seen it. It looked the same from the outside. A big building, new with lots of steel and concrete. Typical downtown.

The parking garage wasn't free anymore and this time I was driving into it. I'd mixed it up with the parking garage at the other hospital where you could park on the roof and walk over a skybridge right to the elevators. That hospital had parts of it that were still the original building and brick wall could still be visible in some corners. It was the kind of hospital that you expected to see nuns floating down the hallway.

But this one, the one she died in...It was newer. More expensive equipment to save you from death, except when nothing could. And instead of the roof, I was going farther underground as I looked for a parking space to wedge into. The air feels so heavy in a parking garage. It pushes down on you as soon as you open the car door.

"C is for Camel."  The floors of the garage were identified with animals. I glanced at the tacky silhouette of a camel on the wall and realized with a smirk that it looked like the cigarette mascot.

There's a smell to a parking garage that is unpleasant but familiar. It smells like...cars and dust and darkness. The elevators are not better and we rode up in silence.

The lobby is suddenly before us and there's a Starbucks in it. The aquariums I'd stared at for hours on long nights were gone, replaced by ridiculously expensive glass sculptures. It felt like an airport.

There is no directory. Instead there is a round desk where two bored looking girls in scrubs are sitting. They point me in the right direction and I head down the hallway.

I'm not alone. The Fella came with, and I could feel him next to me, but it was as though I was walking down that corridor all by myself. I was instantly that almost 30 year old in an old green sweatshirt, clutching coffee and reeking of nervous cigarettes. I was going upstairs to the ICU.

The elevator doors opened and the first thing I saw was the artwork. It's awful. Pastel colors thrown onto canvas in an attempt to appear abstract. They were motel pictures. Garage sale leftovers. And the same as they were ten years ago.

I knew where the nurse's desk was, and wasn't surprised to find it empty. Some things never change. A nurse came around the corner and asked me if I was his daughter. I nodded and she took me in to see him.

I was so focused on making sure that he was ok, that we find out what was wrong so we can fix it that I didn't let myself remember where I was. Not completely anyway. As I struggled to put the face mask on I remembered the gowns we had to wear before. Ugly yellow paper things that did nothing except rustle annoyingly. "Just precautionary."

The masks weren't much better. Tight and pinching under my eyes. My glasses kept getting caught on the top.

When I saw him he looked the same. His hair is long right now, too long in my opinion and rivals his beard in grayness. He was watching golf and was wearing his half smile. He looked wonderfully...fine.

We talked for a bit and he told me what happened. I listened. We discussed his lack of a newspaper and desperate thirst. A doctor came in and asked him questions but looked at me for the answers.

It wasn't long before I had to get out of the room and walk about, take that damn mask off. The air was wretchedly dry and I couldn't breathe. It was loud. The beeps of the machines and the sounds of others moaning in pain or distress came in from neighboring rooms. There seems to be no way anyone can rest.

I walked by the waiting room I'd called home ten years ago. I stood at the window I had so many times before and smelled the burnt coffee in the pot on the counter. It all came back. Seeing loved ones bent over beds or in the hallway brushing their tears away. Trying to read, sleep, watch tv, anything to not go back in there and watch her die.

But the smell is what invades me now. Hospitals always have a certain scent but the ICU is different. It smells like fear and sadness and waiting and hoping and death.

Downstairs with a Starbucks in my hand, I found a chair to call people. That's what you do in a hospital waiting room. I looked around at all the people that were there. Most of them had their face in their phones with looks of concern. I swear I could feel their pain, it was so familiar.

When I returned to his room, he was asleep. Seeing him curled up on his side, that ridiculous hair splayed around his head softly sleeping made my heart swell and then break.

He's not infallible. Despite years of him telling me otherwise, he will die someday. He could have died this time. He's all I have left and he's in the same fucking hospital that she died in. He told me he didn't want to come here. I vowed I would never return and yet...here we both are.

I know he's been sedated but I still close the door quietly. I place the uncomfortable face mask back on and step from the airlock into his room. He doesn't stir as I stand there, feeling our roles of adult and child shift. It takes me a moment to realize what's so unsettling...he's not snoring. I smile a bit at that-I do believe it's the first time I've ever heard him sleep without rattling the windows-and I walk towards him to say goodbye.

He doesn't hear, but I tell him that I love him and kiss his forehead. I close the door quietly and leave the room without looking back.

The nurse finds me and fills me in, tells me to go home. She assures me things are fine and tells me to call anytime for updates. She's kind.

The Fella pays the parking fee and then I'm driving home. I start to breathe better as the freeway opens up. I hear the nurse telling me he's going to be ok and begin to believe it. I start thinking about what I can and cannot do for him going forward.

Music is on the radio and I feel myself releasing tension as home gets closer.
He's going to be ok.
I didn't panic.