One Bourbon, One Scotch, and One Hormone
The irony just occurred to me: I’m a guy more than 6 feet in height, yet I’m being given growth stimulating hormone shots. In some parallel world—one where I’m writing as a pulp fiction sci-fi author—this makes sense and describes order and normalcy. In my world, though, it sounds pretty odd.
I’ve gotten two of them, now; one last night, and the second around lunchtime today. Each time the needle doesn’t hurt, but there’s a bit of a five-second sting while the hormone (reads like Hermione to me) is actually being injected. Still wonder if I could use force of will to keep pressing to insert the—admittedly small—dose. It’s only the second day of this, so I’ve got some time (2-3 weeks) to ponder it further.
Nurse Bingo
Yesterday I made a silly bingo card for patients in Irish hospitals, made up of the sorts of words and phrases we hear pretty frequently. Elana showed it to some of the nurses today, and they found some of the choices on the card funny. Nurse N said, “You need to go home, Brendan, if you’re doing stuff like this.” Sounds good to me! Kind of funny, a hospital suggesting you get out because your brain must not be functioning properly. 😉
Does there exist a word for a group of laughing nurses?
Oooo, look, sun!
Elana and I were able to go outside for a really nice walk this afternoon. Not just on the sidewalk in front of the hospital, either. This journey let me see people out for a walk and cars going by on a busy road.
An array of people playing the role of Jay Gatsby went racing by in their splendid cars, many laughing at jokes told miles before. A delightful sampling of society, really, and a reminder, again, of a world close enough to be touched.
A moment’s touch is sometimes all that’s needed to truly make a difference.
