Hello, dad. I'm glad you're feeling better. Listen, don't try and speak. Even if you can. They say you can hear. Can you hear? You can let me know by smiling a lot at what I say. Not that anything I'll say is funny, but I love seeing your smile. My favorite father. You're looking real well. I would've been here sooner but the weather in our country's been so bad the planes couldn't go. When they did and the kids and I got here, your airport was on strike so we had to land three hundred miles out of the way and bus in here slowly overnight because it snowed. Then I heard what happened to you. But let's forget about going into that. My husband Lanny sends his best and says he wishes he could've also flown here, and the kids heir love. They're right downstairs, and after all this traveling by trains, planes, buses, cabs and subways and now only an elevator ride away, it's frustrating for them not to be let up, and unfair. The youngest I wanted to sneak in here under my coat, as he's never seen you, but if they saw him they might not let me see you again. You're their one grandpa and what they know of you is only from what I tell them and old snapshots. I don't knowâbut am I speaking too much or too fast? Just relax. But nod if you want me to slow down or shut up. I was saying that I don't know if you knew that Lanny's folks died in a car crash together when he was a boy. He was in it too but thrown into some soft bushes so somehow survived. Though he did get a broken neck at the time which he still gets headaches from when he stretches too far. The neck too far. Don't try it again. All right. There it is. Off my chest. But please don't make me. I mean please don't, please make me a silent promise and to yourself you won't ever try it again. I've got to know before I go. It'll also be a stigma for the kids later on. Worse than anything it'll kill mom for sure. And you and Jay Junior never got along too well, but you should see how he feels about you now. He's even postponed going back to his children and job and the new girl he's going to marry, so if for anything get out of here quick for another wedding. And when mom's here we often get calls at home from all over from people who are concerned about you. Relatives, friends, and don't worry about the leg. Whatever happens you'll still always have your good heart and head and your life. Think of new interests you can develop you never had. Music. And if I was in your position I'd read more and draw. I'd draw the doctors and nurses and how I feel about them and what I see in the room and aides and also my leg. And also my face in the mirror, looking like how I felt about myself in such a state. And in the background I'd get the pills and food and needles and curtains and even this blue urinal here. I'd make a study of it, in fact. A whole portrait devoted to it and whatever else is on the table at the time. I'd draw it all. I'd use my ambition, which you always had plenty of for that, and believe me anybody can draw. You're smiling. Is it what I'm saying's so funny or do you agree? Anyway, good. And get out. Your body's still strong. Your internist only wishes he'd be as healthy as you at your age other than for the other things and says they'll have to both run you over and then beat you to death to finally get you to go. To go from life he meant. And don't give mom any more pain. Consent to whatever the doctors say. Then everything will be all right. You'll be all right. We're not leaving from mom's till I'm absolutely sure you're all right. I'm going out for a smoke now so you get some rest. And don't pinch, oh, just sleep, just rest.
You can't believe it, Jay. When they heard at the office they all nearly cried. First the prostectomy. That wasn't so bad. With fifty percent of us supposed to get it, no man should think he'll be exempt. But that other thing. Hospitals. When I was in. Not this one, the V.A. downtown, good God what a mess. Same thing, only different. Good hospital, I'm not saying that. Our taxes have at least gone for something and our soldiers are getting treated right, but one thing always leads to the next. Went in to get a few boils on my butt cut off and what happens after that? One week is three. Pneumonia it turns out. You're telling me pneumonia from boils? Then a bad reaction to the antibiotics to cure up the pneumonia. Then I trip over my roommate's walkerâan ex-majorâand he breaks his other wrist and me an arm. Get me out of here, I yell, hand-to-hand combat was never as bad as this. Of course my arm's set wrong and the boils begin to return. Double pneumonia's on the way, I begin thinking, and even spare me the thought of what's following next. You think I don't discharge myself to have my new boils taken off somewhere else? Just got dressed, packed my gear, slipped down the stairway past the guards and reception desk and went to a private doctor in his office, where in a day he did it for me one-two-three. Also reset the arm and sent me home in an ambulance with a free air cushion and all the drugs in my life I'll ever need. But how they treating you, Jay? Your wife says they're making up for all their past mistakes by giving you extra-special food and service. Whatever it is you rate, I've never seen better-looking nurses. All Orientals it appears, which I think they'd make the sweetest and most competent. Everyone at work's optimistic that things are at last working out right for you. They're also getting you up a plant. Chipping in as if you never retired a hundred years ago. Even half the new help who never heard of you, and a box of chocolates as well, though I'm not supposed to tell. I told them but he's diabetic and one scimpy bite might mean so long our dearest old pal Jaysie, but Betty the great arranger there said, so, he can give the chocolates to his guests. But you suddenly look tired, as if falling asleep on me. Just go ahead, it's probably what your body most wants you to do. Their chair's very comfortable, so I'll sit here and read my paper and maybe take a nap myself.
Good evening. Your operation's scheduled for tomorrow morning at eight. It'll take from two to three hours, and naturally you'll be totally anesthetized the entire time. After the operation you'll go to recovery room for several hours and then be returned here. You'll be getting the best after-surgery treatment available, and at home the hospital's best physical therapists and homecare nursing staff. I also understand you have an excellent nurse in your wife. I would have preferred getting your written permission, but because there isn't a day to lose with your leg, I'm satisfied with your wife's okay. I want you to know I'd never operate if your internist didn't say you're a thousand times improved since you were admitted with your urine retention and had your prostate removed. And then your self-inflicted development, which you've healed faster than expected and have sufficiently recovered from. Let's be frank. You were here when your wife asked what would happen if the implant didn't take. I said we'd discuss that bridge if we had to come to it. Well we're there now and must cross. I told you both at the time that we were one run behind with two out in the ninth with your leg and what I wanted to do, but unfortunately couldn't, was hit a homerun with a man on. Now it's a brand new ball game, one much simpler to win and with negligible trial and risk. I can't think of anything else to tell you, other than you'll be shaved tonight, wakened at seven and fed no food or fluids till tomorrow's I.V. If there are no further questions, I'll see you in the morning when they bring you up at eight.
Come on now. Breathe deep. Breathe deep. Take a deep breath. I said deep breath. Deeper. More. More. That a boy. You're all right. He's okay. Only a little scare.
It's the anesthesia. He'll be less groggy tonight. What we'll have to check daily is how his diabetes affects the thigh's healing. The Parkinson's pills we've taken him off till he's well on the road to recovery. Closest I can pinpoint for you for a discharge date is a month or so, most likely more. One thing I never like doing is sending my patients home with dressings or packings or where they still must use drugs, drains or pills.
You think he looks bad now? You should have seen him when he was wheeled in. I was the only person in the room. Your mother was having a cigarette in the lounge. Dotty was down in the cafeteria getting coffees and teas for us all. His face was greener than your shirt. We thought for certain it was going to turn blue. The man who wheeled him in didn't know what to do. I rang for the nurse. The orderly came in and slapped his face around and called for the doctors and oxygen tank. His color's about back to normal now, but for a few minutes we thought your father was gone.
Dear? Jay darling. What a morning we had. I'm so glad you slept through it all. Last night I couldn't get a single wink's sleep. Right now I'm so exhausted I could pass out on my feet. But I won't leave. Not at least till the night nurse comes. She called in saying she'd be an hour late. Something about her car stuck in the garage. But isn't it all so grand? You'll be home by the end of the month, maybe less. More than likely less. The doctor says it was a complete success. But sleep then. Close your eyes if you can. Tomorrow they'll try and give you real food.
They're all excited, Jay. With flying colors you passed the test I tell them whenever anyone asks. I reported in sick for the day. Though if they want to know the truth and dock me, then I was right here. I see all the candy's gone. What kind of vultures you got for guests? And I don't see the plant and Mrs. Jay says none was delivered. Since Betty said they said it was sent a day ago, maybe I should call her to check.
Now that you're well on your way to health I'll be leaving. I'm sure the person I left my fishes and animals with has glutted them, to death. And my boss is beginning to ask what's up with me. And the kids are screaming daddy, daddy, and my ex-wife Sondra is writing oh, some terrific father you make. Next time I fly in it'll be good seeing you sitting up again. So goodbye and best wishes and I'll be phoning mom periodically to hear how you are.
Lil Bird from number ten. I would only drop by when I knew you were feeling well. Now that I know you are, I came over. The whole building misses not seeing you in front, as on the sunnier days. You were a pretty good watchdog against people who shouldn't be coming around for things that aren't theirs. Whether you knew that or not, and my husband sends his hellos also. I don't mean watchdog in the dog sense but as a watching human protector. Seeing someone there might be just what a thief needs to make the wrong person turn around. My husband likes hospitals worse than I do but thought it was our duty. I was undecided at first but happy I did and if you want anything, or the lights turned off, you tell me to tell your wife and I will.
I was your aide on the fifth when you had your prostectomy. I always like to keep posted on my old patients if they're still around here, my little boys and girls. It's fabulous what one higher floor can do, so much extra light making the room so much more brighter. And your chart reads fine and your aides tell me you've been good as gold. I'm a bit rushed today but if there's anything you ever think I can do for you, just holler. Ask for Mrs. Lake from floor five, floor five, and goodnight.
You don't know me. I'm a patient across the hall. Only some polyps removed. Now that I'm here they're giving me the round of tests. I only wanted to pop in when nobody was around to wish all the good luck to you. And also to say you got one raw deal and have every right to sue. Not that you'll collect a cent from suing hospitals. Though you will get the satisfaction knowing they might think twice about being as careless with the leg of someone else.
This must seem so very silly to you. My writing a letter like this almost a week to the day after I wrote a similar letter about almost the exact same thing. What's different this time is that instead of using a pen I'm typing on my machine. The portable I treated myself to ten or so years ago and which has almost never been touched, which accounts for it being so stuck, though it's probably also in need of a cleaning. Somehow the dirt must have seeped into it through the portable case. I'm typing to you because I have to. I can't read and writing by pen is too slow and games like solitaire and needlework and talking to strangers here just won't help. I suppose I'm making a lot of noise. Not noise like complaints but typewriter noise. Sitting here in the visitor's lounge on Jay's floor, I'm sure it must only be my mind where I think they can hear me in the patients' rooms and hallways and at the nurses' station, though the nurses have assured me they can't. And there are closed doors to this room and the walls are padded with soundproof squares and the typewriter is supposedly a silent. I haven't checked with any of the other patients, though Jay I know can't hear me as last time I looked he was fast asleep with enough drugs to keep him that way for a while. The only visitors in here I've asked said go ahead, type all you want. As you know from your experiences with Abe in hospitals, people here are much more tolerant and kind. The typewriter is on my lap. It doesn't weigh more than six pounds. The way I've balanced it I can type without discomfort and with ease. The children, thinking the worst had come and gone with their father, had gone back to their individual homes. Jay has done it again. This is the story. He tried killing himself again. He's recovering now. I caught him as I had the last time. This time lying on the floor instead of in the bed, tubes winding every which way around his arms and legs, and a needle from one in his hand with which he just managed to give himself a pinprick. I had got this strange feeling about him as I had before. I called his floor. The nurse said she couldn't check since she was the only one on duty, but when she looked during her rounds the hour before he was doing fine. I begged her to check again. She said all right, maybe she would. Everything is still fine, she reported back to me, he's sleeping well. But like the last time I couldn't take her even rechecking him as a suitable enough answer, and certainly not since that last time, and I took a cab over. It was around 4 A.M. The woman at the hospital reception desk asked what did I want? I said I only wanted to wait in the waiting room on the first floor till the regular permitted visitor's time, which is 10 A.M. She said do as you like as long as you don't go upstairs before. I waited for about five minutes. She couldn't see anything that was happening behind her except through a small mirror. Then when she wasn't looking I climbed the five flights. A nurse followed me down Jay's floor asking what did I think I was doing going to his room? There he was. She knew now what I had come for. Saved again. He looked at me crossly. If he could have spoken I'm sure he would have insulted me and scorned. Not for long though, as they soon gave him sedatives to sleep. The nurse and I lifted him onto the bed. The tubes and needle were easy for her to replace and stick back in and the hand wound just took a band-aid. The doctors were called, but it wasn't that necessary. All they did was strap his wrists to the bedrails with bandages and assign an orderly to his room as a guard. Jay at first refused all sedatives by mouth, so they had to give it in his veins. He had done it by taking down the bed rail and rolling off the mattress onto the floor. I can understand how he feels. But the doctors told him what about your wife if you try it again or were even successful at it one of the last two times? I think he understands now. He promised to everyone he'll never try it again. But who can say? What's a promise worth these days? But once he's medically released from here I've been told to institutionalize him for life. In a nursing home or a good asylum if there's one. The government will pay the whole cost or close to it I've been told. Doctors, nurses, my friends and his few old friends and even his own children have urged me to do it. They've said mom, you can't handle that man. It'll be too much for you and ruin your own health. He has to be watched all the time. And you have the authority now, everybody tells me, as his past two attempts gave you that. But I could never be that cruel.