{"id":1221,"date":"2014-08-18T09:27:36","date_gmt":"2014-08-18T16:27:36","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/slowsuburbandeath.com\/2014\/08\/18\/birds-and-the-bees-hospital-style-with-zack\/"},"modified":"2014-08-18T09:27:36","modified_gmt":"2014-08-18T16:27:36","slug":"birds-and-the-bees-hospital-style-with-zack","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/annapirhana.com\/?p=1221","title":{"rendered":"Birds and the bees, hospital style with Zack"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"ears\"<\/a><\/p>\n

I got used to the antiseptic smell and the hovering sickness of the hospital as well as any teenager did, confronting subjects of life and death after my father had a massive heart attack when I was 15.\u00a0 My mother and I clasped our hands together as we huddled on the hospital coach, watching doctors and nurses rush by with equipment as \u201cCODE BLUE CCU\u201d blared across the system.\u00a0 We knew they were speaking of my father, and I was frightened.<\/p>\n

We had only been close until I began school, after which he drifted away from my life.\u00a0 He worked the graveyard shift and was rarely awake when I came home to a darkened flat in the evening, hunching over a tiny stool to do my homework.\u00a0\u00a0 I never went had that grand, regretful epiphany that compelled me to want to make up for lost time after he fell ill.\u00a0\u00a0 It was my mother who forced me to visit my father in the hospital every day after school, demanding that I remain there for four to five hours until she could bring me home after her work.<\/p>\n

My mother had just recovered from stomach cancer, and her insistence on secrecy and keeping her illness private meant that I had to go through that entire experience alone.\u00a0 By the time I began visting my father, I was already wary of the equipment, the smell, the sugary sweetness of the hospital staff and of sitting on cushioned seats watching a loved one trying to recover.<\/p>\n

My father, however, had other ideas for my visits.<\/p>\n

Everyday, he would save the hospital food that he hated into his little side drawer, fishing it out it in its soggy, cold state.\u00a0 \u201cThis taste like shit.\u00a0 I saved it for you,\u201d he would say as he shoved portions of food wrapped in napkins towards me.\u00a0 After pushing the food back towards him until it ended up back in his drawer at his request, he would ask me about wrestling, if the San Francisco Giants lost \u2013 even though it was no longer baseball season and if my mother and sister were well.\u00a0 Once those preliminaries were done, he would turn away and begin speaking to his roommate, an onery old man who would swap stories with him of life on the sea.<\/p>\n

It was like this everyday until that one particular evening when I visited him after skipping a day.\u00a0 He was already speaking with is new roommate, then stopped, grabbed my hand introduced\u00a0 me to an African American gentleman in the bed next to his.\u00a0\u00a0 Without waiting for me to settle into the guest chair, my father resumed his chat with his roommate.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t goddman understand it.\u00a0 It sticks up in the morning again like I was a young guy.\u00a0 I feel better.\u201d<\/p>\n

The roommate offered a hearty laugh.\u00a0 \u201cYeah, yeah.\u00a0 I know what you\u2019re saying. I\u2019m getting all hard in the morning, too.\u00a0 What are they giving us here?\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at my father, who seemed so very pleased with himself.\u00a0 An event of celestial proportion seems to have taken place beneath his hospital gown, although I was most likely the worst person on the world to be in on his celebration.<\/p>\n

I tried to ignore the conversation. I stared at the dentures floating in the glass next to his bed.\u00a0 I wiggled my toes.\u00a0 I frowned a great deal, and even tried to pull my hand away from his grasp.\u00a0 My father would not have any of it, at least not when both he and his roommate were in raptures.<\/p>\n

\u201cI feel like I am wasting it in the hospital,\u201d my father added.\u00a0 \u201cI haven\u2019t been this hard in a long time.\u00a0 I thought I forgot,\u201d he laughed.<\/p>\n

By this point, I had realized that my relationship with my father was less parent\/child and more man\/annoying child who kept changing the channels when he was sleeping.\u00a0 It would never be normal, or even on and off.\u00a0 It was abnormal on the scale of Rosemary\u2019s Baby strange.<\/p>\n

The conversation continued as a middle aged nurse entered the room to check different equipment and medical conditions, and I saw her eyebrows wing upwards as she caught wind of the discussion.\u00a0 She stared at me, giving me that nun\u2019s guilty once over, as if I initiated the conversation.\u00a0 I tried to give that beagle eyed look that would demand sympathy.\u00a0 Instead, she pursed her lips and left the room.<\/p>\n

Finally, their conversation segued to wrestling, which I assume is a natural pathway for men.\u00a0\u00a0 My father finally released my hand, and I backed away, finding the comfortable guest chair and burying myself in math homework.<\/p>\n

My mother came to get me a few hours later, double parking her burgundy Toyota Corolla in front of the hospital.\u00a0 Our usual silent and short ride home was broken when I suggested that instead of waiting for the evening ride\u2019s home, I could easily manage the short walk.\u00a0 I ran through a myriad of reasons why this would make sense as we walked into our flat.<\/p>\n

As we settled into the cold and dark house, my mother turned to scowl at me.\u00a0 \u201cYou have to spend time with your father.\u00a0 What if he died?\u00a0 You should talk to him while you have time.\u00a0 All you have to do is sit there, do your homework and visit.\u00a0 He can barely move.\u201d<\/p>\n

That\u2019s what you think, mom.<\/p>\n

(c) 2014 Slow Suburban Death.\u00a0 All rights reserved.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I got used to the antiseptic smell and the hovering sickness of the hospital as well as any teenager did, confronting subjects of life and<\/p>\n

Continue readingBirds and the bees, hospital style with Zack<\/span><\/a><\/div>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[8,43],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/annapirhana.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1221"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/annapirhana.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/annapirhana.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/annapirhana.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/annapirhana.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1221"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/annapirhana.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1221\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/annapirhana.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1221"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/annapirhana.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1221"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/annapirhana.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1221"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}