Being normal

It's always about feeling normal again. That you are not living in a place specifically designated for people who have "something wrong" with them. That instead of being "taken care" of or "fixed" by the medical staff, you are buddies who just happen to see each other every day.

It's about taking control, however much you can.

I've visited Jerry twice. Before seeing him, I knew he was special. Something in the eyes of my guide and Jerry's nurse tells me that I should be expecting something a little different from this gentleman than from the others. My guide, who spends a great deal of time volunteering in the hospital, knew him by name. The nurse simply called him "my boy".

The "boy" is a skinny, middle-age man with silver hair. As soon as he saw me step into the room, he quickly got up from his bed and turned to the rolling meal stand next to the bed. He picked up a pitcher with one hand, and searched for a clean paper cup from a stack with the other. His hands trembled with excitement (or because of medication) as he repeated to himself and everyone else in the room (me, my guide, and his nurse): "I want to to give the girl some water, I want to give her some water to drink..."

The nurse, handling his IV monitor, said absent-mindedly, "Just lie down and relax, Jerry. The girl is here to play some music for you." She turned around and smiled at me.

"No, I want to give her some water..." The man continued to mumble to himself, not once raising his eyes to look at me.

"The girl don't want no water! Just lie down and relax. She just wants to play something to make you feel better. Come on now..." The nurse stood between us as she tried to calm the man, who has now poured some water into the cup and made a small puddle on the meal stand. He extended the cup to me with a trembling hand while the well-intentioned woman attempted to fend him off. His excited behavior has probably startled some visitors in the past.

"That's very nice of you, sir," I stepped toward him, accepting the cup. "I will enjoy this water later. Will you hold on to this for me for now?" I handed the cup to my guide, who was standing at the doorway.

Jerry suddenly quieted down. He turned to his bed and lay down with the assistance of the nurse. I began to play a soothing melody that had just then came into my head. Jerry lay motionless for a couple of seconds, then he suddenly got up and started pouring water again. "Come sit down," he called out to my guide, who was still standing at the doorway, as he always does so as not to crowd the already small room. The same scene began again, with people telling him to just lie down, relax and listen.

As we left with cups in our hands, I could still hear the nurse promising the excited man that we would come and visit again. The second time I saw Jerry a few weeks later, he was eating his dinner with the assistance of a nurse, completely oblivious to our presence in the room. His was in his own world, withdrawn from the surrounding. No more being an enthusiastic host to his visitors and no listening to music either. He simply sat there. Recovering to normal? Who knows.