Hospital fatigue is real. It settles in quietly at first, then all at once. The beeping machines through the night, the steady rhythm of knocks at the door, the feeling that rest is always just out of reach. There’s always something. Anyone who’s been here knows the routine. The gowns, the socks, the bedpans, the wires, the minutes that seem to stretch longer than they should, and the jello. Always the jello. It reminds me of Forrest Gump in that makeshift hospital, eating ice cream nonstop. That’s me, just swap it for jello. Orange, though. Always orange. No need to give anyone a reason to worry with the red. I got in trouble for that before.
How have I overcome it? I’m not sure I have. I’ve just learned how to manage it. I count birds, watch cars pass, wear out my Spotify, and write these thoughts down. I drift into the past and try to hold onto the idea that there’s still a future ahead. And I eat jello. A lot of jello. It’s hard to complain when you look around and realize some people are here for months, and some never leave, at least three since I’ve been here. My situation feels heavy at times, a double whammy with cancer and a heart attack, but there are people carrying heavier loads than I am. Especially next door at the Children’s Hospital. A place my family knows all too well.
I’m tired. Five hours of sleep across two nights kind of tired. But I’m also grateful. Grateful for the nurses, the doctors, the support staff, the therapy dogs, the massage therapists, the cafeteria workers, security, the ER teams who have a whole other level of challenges. There’s a lot happening behind the scenes to keep this place going, and I’ve felt that care every step of the way. For all the fatigue, I don’t have complaints.
I’m sitting at my “office” on a Saturday morning. Kentucky Derby day. One of my favorite sports days of the year. It’s a bettor’s dream or a bettor’s regret, depending on how you played your cards. Sure, I’m on DraftKings, $5 at a time. Am I up overall? Nah, but that’s okay. Much like my uncles Mike and Paul, I’ve been a gambler my whole life, just like Ryan Adams says – it’s in my disposition.
"Oh, my sweet Carolina
What compels me to go?
Oh, my sweet disposition
May you one day carry me home
I ain't never been to Vegas, but I gambled up my life
Building newsprint boats I race to sewer mains
Was trying to find me something but I wasn't sure just what
Funny how they say that some things never change" - Ryan Adams
I’ve taken more chances than not. If anything, I’m in the game, and I decided a long time ago that I’m no sideline sitter. At times, that’s benefited me, and a lot of times it hasn’t, but at least those were my choices to make.
You often hear people say, “I’m built different,” and that’s certainly true for me. I’d say I’m mostly built like SpongeBob, just with a little more punk rock and a lot less yellow.
The girls are headed up today. I know they’ll fill this room with laughter like they do.
It’s always been interesting to me that they have the same parents, the same upbringing, the same values and principles, yet all three are so different and unique in their own ways. I’m so proud of the young women they’ve become. They take after their mom in so many ways, and I’m really glad about that. I’d love to tell you more about each one of them, but they’d probably get mad at Dad. Besides, their stories are their own to tell.
I’m a girls dad. I was born to be.
I’m signing off for now. I’ll catch you later, or tomorrow, or whenever the next time comes around. I’ll see you. Maybe passing through Kingshighway, or somewhere along the paths in Forest Park. If so, give me a wave on the 8th floor.
Thanks to all The Gamblers for today’s soundtrack.
The Barn 