Machines on the Maternity Ward

I’m going to dovetail on Joe’s post once again.  Today, my girlfriend and I visited the hospital to see her friend’s new baby boy.  The floor was quiet as we got off the elevator.  We must have looked confused because the custodian set his mop down for a second and said, “You have to use the phone.”  Sure enough, next to a set of large double-doors was a red phone.  We picked up the phone.  “Yes, we’d like to see so-and-so.  She is here with her new baby.”  The unseen operator responded with a buzz, and magically the big doors swung open.  The big doors were there for security reasons, and I suppose they work for less than the watchman or the receptionist.  After we surrendered our IDs in exchange for “Visitor” stickers, we found the hum that was the room of the mom and her new son.  Friends and family stirred around taking turns holding the bundle of joy.  There was mom watching on, sitting up in her hospital bed.  And there was the machine–tall, flickering, and looming over the bed.  You see, she was not just the mother here; she was the patient.  I was thankful for the armoire of dark wood in the corner that lent a little softness to the room with its tiny, soft inhabitant.  After a while, the nurse entered and began to rummage around the hospital bed.  Yes!  Hurrah!  She began to untether mom from the IV bag.  Mom said, “Sure is good to get all that stuff off of me.”  Yes, I thought, maybe now she can hold her baby.

 

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