There's a pause at the other end of the Television Remote Control and call button to the Nurse's station before the static goes suddenly quiet.
Heather meanders inside looking every bit of tired as 4:30 in the morning can be with two-and-a-half hours left on the shift.
"You've had enough ice," she sighs.
"Alright," I say. "What are my other options?"
Rolling her eyes, she explains for the hundredth time, "your orders call for ice chips only."
"Great! I'll have a cup."
"You're far exceeding what your body can tolerate given your surgery."
"I'm okay with something else. What are my choices?"
Without answering her weary feet shuffle towards the ice maker.
I hit play on my phone and Band of Horses runs through the wireless speaker explaining how they found it in a drawer.
The door opens and another Nurse strolls in pushing a machine.
"You taking or leaving?" I ask from my Hospital bed.
"Taking," she laughs. "Blood work."
She wraps the plastic tourniquet around my arm sticking the needle in a vein.
"Let me get this straight! Every morning and every night, y'all come in an take three tubes of my blood. That's six tubes a day. There's no way it takes that much blood to run tests, especially at night. Are you selling the extra blood on the black market?"
Howling with laughter, she replies "Yep, it all goes to the Nurse's retirement fund."
"I figured as much," I say as she pulls the needle from my arm.
Meandering out, she leaves me alone.
I try to sleep but there's no real way to rest in a Hospital as Doctors, Nurses, Nutritionists, technicians and strangers wander in and out of my room whenever they wish.
It makes sense.
They're working and I happen to be what they're working on so I'm existing for them and not as much them for me, though there is a strange duality.
After all the purpose of a Hospital is not to make people well but, regardless of non-profit status, to manage illness in ways producing a positive financial yield.
After a ten hour surgery to eradicate pancreatic cancer from my body, I spend six days impacting the institution's bottom line.
Aside from when Sarah walking into the room, or she and Che Face timing me, these are the memorable moments from my stay. Most of the time there I was pretty ... restless.
When Sarah enters though, I light up and we visit, huddled in chairs by the window overlooking ugly roof tops littered with massive air conditioning units. We're grateful for lots of things. I'm alive. We're together. The kids are okay. We're ready to get back to living our lives.
After a while I climb back into bed, immediately fall asleep and rest while Sarah sits in the chair.
There's no rest in the Hospital when she's not with me but I'm home when we're together and slumber peacefully.
Sarah is my home.
I had the incredible misfortune of remaining in the Hospital over the weekend when absolutely nothing happens as Doctor's enjoy their weekends, Nurses and Techs call in sick and only the Emergency Room heats up.
It was excruciating.
First thing Monday morning they say I can go home.
Sometime that afternoon, they let me go.
Che runs circles of delight as she sees me, hugs me tightly as I collapse on the sofa and kisses me a thousand times. The girls hug me, repeatedly asking if I need anything. Sarah shoos them away and I fall asleep because ... I'm home where it's possible to collect yourself after days of others taking pieces of you without giving back.
It's been a month now and aside from daily walks to regain lost strength and stamina, I remain home entirely focused on healing under my wife's watchful eyes.
Che's very protective of her old man and never lets me go too far without her by my side.
The girls crazy teenage zaniness gives us plenty to laugh at and discuss.
"For every hour of surgery, it takes a month to recover," the Doctor explains, meaning it'll be close to a year before I'm close to being what I was before.
Plus a little bit of cancer remains they couldn't get so we have to figure out what to do about it.
But I'm in no hurry.
I'm home, surrounded by very tangible expressions of love, understanding it's time to be still and know these gifts of God.
There's no rush.
There's just now.
