I spent 12 days in Children’s Hospital and was lucky to have met a few fellow sick kids. One in particular humbles me to this day. John woke up every morning and blasted Thriller on his record player. I didn’t mind waking up to that song, but God it was early. John was a permanent resident because his parents abandoned him due to his condition and insane medical bills. I am not sure how long he had been there, but his room was a bedroom, not a hospital room and the nurses treated him like a son.
I have no idea what was wrong with him, but he was in a wheelchair and had a number of tubes coming out of every part of this body. I was pissed about the one IV – ridiculous. I couldn’t help staring at the hole in his neck and he explained at some point in me stalking him that it was the only way he could breath. The tube and the snotty nose were pretty appalling, but it didn’t keep me from visiting him every day. Continue reading