As the evening settled in, we were jolted into a few realizations.
Spokane is a lot farther away from our home, family and friends.
Having a private room in a hospital is a blessing. Sharing a room with a whiny, spoiled, not really sick (basic tonsillectomy early in the morning) four year old and his needy, inconvenienced parents made me seriously question if I had the strength to do this. (By do this, I mean NOT jerk the red headed brat bald headed). This may not be my most flattering post; the truth hurts, as they say. I was not happy, Justin was not happy; we cried.
The hospital staff was great in helping us get set up in a motel room; Darin had gone for the night. The sofa in the hospital made down into a pretty ok bed. Justin and I gave it our best shot to try and get sleep. Even the nurses, who I have never met a more patient group of people, were starting to have their fill of "Eric, our neighbor". They seriously called the nurses station more times than our monitors beeped. They even called when Justin's i.v. ran out and was beeping! One nurse, bless her heart, finally asked that they take the balloons out of the room so "Eric" would stop beating them on the ceiling. At about eleven, the staff asked "Eric's" dad if they wanted to go home; dad didn't think they had enough pain medicine to get through the night and he was really too tired to drive home; I thought to myself ***you can add your own part here***. The night ended, morning came, "Eric" and family were released and peace on Earth was felt throughout the halls.