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Goodbye Trauma Unit

13 Mar

Turns out it’s harder to get out of the hospital than it is to get out of jail. Gary was told he was getting out at 9 in the morning, but it was 4:35 before we saw this welcome sight in our rear-view mirror.

photo (5)

It’s also just as hard to visit at this famous Regional Medical Center in Memphis as it is to visit someone in prison, except they don’t take away your jewelry or send deny you access for wearing low-cut clothes. (I know this because I sometimes helped lead Troop Meetings in our local women’s prison, so Girl Scouts could work toward their badges together with their incarcerated moms.)

To get into this hospital where Gary was since Feb 28, a person needs to show a photo ID. Then they take this mug shot of a picture, a copy of which you have to stick on your clothes and show to show to  teensy camera when you get upstairs, either to the ICU or the Stepdown Trauma Unit, and probably to that little baby garden of a nursery too, lest you have plans to smuggle some newborn out under your coat.

We waited and waited, for the final wound care, the final bath, the help getting dressed. Gary had to evaluate the nursing care for them and pick a dish for supper just in case we were still there when those clanking trays came around, then go to Discharge and undergo more questions.

By the time I had fetched my little rental car and they had rolled him on out to it,  we had a mile-high pile of things on the accompanying cart, from the creative greeting cards and posters his friends had made to the many magazines, to the Steven Hawking book to the pint-size  DVD player his sister Susan sent after her own visit back in the critical first days, to her quart of Tomato Basil Soup. And of course that 30-pound fruitbasket sent by the company whose van had hit him. And the running shoes and wool cap  he had been wearing when he was hit, all the rest of hid clothes having been cut apart at the scene of the accident.

It rained like Biblical Flood the whole day before, greet sheets of rain coursing down the glass walls of the cafeteria, but on this day, just as we were taking our leave, the clouds broke and a golden sun poured down on us as we drove south and west, south and west, across the state line and back to his home in Helena and it felt like a blessing and an omen both.

field in early March the Delta

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8 Comments

Posted by on March 13, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

8 responses to “Goodbye Trauma Unit

  1. eatingtheweek

    March 13, 2013 at 8:54 am

    So, so glad to hear this!

     
  2. Elaine

    March 13, 2013 at 8:58 am

    So happy to have the news. Freedom!!!

     
  3. Joan

    March 13, 2013 at 8:58 am

    You are a one in a million good friend; and a role model to all.

     
    • Terry Marotta

      March 13, 2013 at 12:06 pm

      I am no such thing but thanks Dear Joan…

       
    • Terry Marotta

      March 13, 2013 at 12:06 pm

      I am no such thing but thanks Dear Joan…

       
  4. mainemcq6

    March 13, 2013 at 2:53 pm

    God bless you, Terry, God bless you. No., it’s more like one in a trillion. :)

     
  5. Berylholyspirit Restoredbygod McIndoe

    March 14, 2013 at 8:04 pm

    Thanks for the blow by blow T, you’re such a great story teller, at least this story has an happy ending compare to our 2004 or was it 2005 New Hampshire gruesome one. Much love and blessings. Tell Gary Crystal and I are praying for him. Love you and God bless you and the family :)

     
    • Terry Marotta

      March 30, 2013 at 5:36 pm

      I will never forget witnessing that fatality Beryl! The children were sickened, remember? we had to stop ..

      Thanks for all your good prayers. I am sending you something that I had HOPED would arrive by tomorrow but I’m thinking now it won’t.

      God bless you all! Grandma is watching over you I know..

       

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The Freelance Retort

Because one minute you're a baby and the next you're getting the senior discount - and there's no reversing direction!

uppervalleygirl

Another Good Day in Rural America . . . . . . . © 2012, 2013, 2014 Ann Aikens ~ all rights reserved

Eating The Week

Week-size morsels of the stuff we eat

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