- My partner spent three weeks in the hospital with rotating roommates next to him.
- His last roommate before he was released saved his sanity and even held his hand as he cried.
I woke up slowly, my brain struggling to come up for air. What day was this?
When I took in the empty space beside me, I realized it didn't matter. On that dark October morning in 2021, I knew that whatever day this was, I'd be making the 40-minute drive to the hospital later that afternoon to visit my partner.
I worried. Had he managed to get enough sleep? Neither of us had had adequate rest for the past two weeks. He was wakened every two or three hours, day or night. It was protocol, they said. Bright lights came on at 3 a.m. For the 100th time, loud voices asked him his date of birth and his pain level from one to 10.
When I entered my partner's room, I was surprised to see a woman kneeling on a small mat, her forehead touching the floor. At first, I assumed she was doing a yoga pose. When I noticed her headscarf and flowing dress, I realized she must be praying. Not wishing to disturb her, I sidled to my partner's side of the room.
He was having a rough time at the hospital
His prior roommate was a problem. Unlike the succession of mostly quiet roommates, this one screamed all day, threw things, and approached my partner's bed in a menacing way.
My partner stopped sleeping altogether. A nurse took pity on him and told him he'd have a new roommate soon. I sat in bed at night as if my staying awake would help. At 10 p.m. the phone rang. My partner said he had been moved to another room. His relief calmed me. We could both try to sleep now.
My partner was staring out the window at the people coming in and out of the parking lot.
"I'm going crazy," he said.
The pump connected to his leg sucked and whirled, a small sponge inside keeping the wound raw in readiness for a tissue graft. A tiny hole in his lower leg had led to a freak infection, necessitating surgery to remove a large area of the affected tissue.
What should have been a short hospital stay had turned into weeks as the bacteria had spread to his whole body. The bacteria eventually was managed, and we were then waiting for the second surgery.
My partner's face contorted as the pump completed another painful cycle.
"Promise me you won't let them keep me," he said. I promised, squeezing his hand hard.
His new roommate saved helped him get through bad days
As the days went on, my partner's roommate was constantly surrounded by family and friends. I didn't understand the language, but I heard the love flowing through the curtain separating us. I could stay for only two hours on weekdays. I brought magazines, music, books, and food. But there was just me.
On Saturday, I entered my partner's room. His roommate smiled and motioned me closer. We hadn't spoken before.
"Your husband needs sun," she said.
My partner later admitted that early that morning, she had held his hand as he cried, despair filling his soul. She then had a nurse prepare a wheelchair to support his leg and hook on his pump and intravenous drip. She described the route to a hallway of windows facing the sun. I wheeled my partner out of the room, a glimmer of joy beckoning us onward.
As we soaked in the sunlight, safe from the November chill, his roommate joined us. For the first time, I noticed the yellow skin clashing with her headscarf and the blisters around her mouth. Her prognostic was not good, she said. The treatments for her liver issues didn't seem to be working. We shared words of hope and tidbits of life stories. I was moved by how she offered comfort when her condition was so much worse.
A week later, my partner was finally released from the hospital. We gave his roommate a card printed with flowers and butterflies, as she had mentioned she liked gardening. Her smile lit up the room.
That night, as I asked my guides to bring us health, I included a special prayer for this amazing woman, hoping we would all wake up to a better tomorrow.