So I was in a hospital waiting room reading O magazine the other night because I’d taken my grandmother to the emergency room. She’d fallen and broken her hip. She’s okay; she had surgery yesterday. I’m thankful she’s okay, even if she does have to lie around in a dinky suburban hospital where time has a different meaning, with all the volunteer desk clerks drifting around in their nutty slow-motion underwater world as they try to look up my grandma’s room on the computer. And then they point down the hall to Elevator 5. And then I have to ask them, “Is Elevator 5 still out of order?” And then they nod, and point in the opposite direction. This happens every time. But I don’t think the people who are actually taking care of my grandma are like this.
I’m driving out there to visit today and then coming back to the city and spending Thanksgiving with friends I’m, you know, thankful to have. It’s a long drive but I just downloaded that Alice’s Restaurant song, and that’ll help.