Yesterday, having been told that Shobhit would need to stay in the hospital another night and therefore I knew I wouldn't be taking him home yesterday, I rode my bike to Virginia Mason, so I wouldn't have to deal with parking. And before I went inside, I rode around the building to get a photo of the side I knew he would have taken his photos out his 16th-floor window.
There is no way in hell he was actually 16 floors above the ground. Consider
this shot I took from Shobhit's window a few minutes after I took the above exterior shot: you can see the higher portion to the left in the above shot, to the right in that shot—and he was clearly level with the floor about four from the top in that other, taller section. Near as I can tell, that placed us
second from the top in that wide, slightly lower section there, which was at
best ten floors up from the ground here.
Even factoring in the fact that, as I noticed in the elevators, it skips floor 13, it certainly wasn't 16! This hospital is pulling the same shit as
hotels in Australia, duping us into thinking we're higher than we really are. But: why?
To be somewhat fair, this shot was taken on Seneca Street, which is on a fairly steep slope. To the right, down the hill and to the next cross street, 9th Avenue, from there you could add maybe two more floors. In which case you could
maybe twelve floors up. Still not sixteen. I want answers!
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Anyway. As of last night and this morning, the plan was that Shobhit would likely be discharged after he ate breakfast, so I stayed home from work at first, even emailing all the key people that I would be coming in late, maybe after noon. Yesterday the doctor said it could be as late as noon before he got sent home.
I got up at my normal time for a work day this morning, at 5:15. I still took my time, not fully ready until about 7:10. I contemplated texting Shobhit to see if he was awake a couple of times, but decided against it: I didn't want a text to wake him up if by chance he was sleeping, as he needs all the rest he can get, for probably the next few days at least.
I tried to see if I could use a link I found from 2018 in my Gmail archives for remote desktop to use for work, but I couldn't get it to work, not even after I had it text me a security code.
Then, Shobhit texted me at 7:55 a.m.:
The operating doctor just came. She said that I'm looking good bust she wants to wait till post lunch to let me go
He then suggested that, if I was not going to take the day off work (which I did not particularly want to do), I go ahead and come to work for four or five hours, until I come to pick him up probably midafternoon. So, that's what we decided. I asked if I should drive the car and pay for parking so I could drive straight there to pick him up, or if I should just take transit and bus/train home before getting the car. He then suggested I ride my bike. Normally I wouldn't have, as it was very cold, 35°. But, it was also sunny and dry, as he noted, and the high today is supposed to be 56°, which is actually perfect bike riding weather, so long as it's not rainy. I just layered up, wore my fingerless gloves with my hoodie under my lighter jacket; this way I can fit my jacket in my bag for the ride home and just wear the hoodie. My fingers did get a little numb on the ride here but it was fine.
So, as I write this, I am indeed back at work at the office, no real idea when I'll leave again to bike home, then drive back to Virginia Mason to pick him up.
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It feels a lot like the hospital staff is just using an abundance of caution, which honestly I am fine with. He needs to eat more solid foods, have a normal bowel movement, before they will let him come home.
I visited him for about three hours yesterday afternoon, and even I saw noticeable improvement in that time alone. A nurse named Chris helped him to the bathroom, and then suggested they take some walks back and forth in the hallway, which they did three times. That was when Shobhit told me there were more windows at the end of the hallway, with views of downtown facing directly west. Five more shots for my "
Shobhit's Appendectomy" photo album on Flickr! Like, literally just over half the photos in that album are just of the views out the windows. (The floor count maybe be muddled, but the building is still up on First Hill, giving it great views of the skyline.)
When he first FaceTimed me after waking up from his surgery yesterday morning, he was barely coherent. By the time I had been visiting for a few hours, he was fully lucid and once again telling everyone who would listen that he was running for Seattle City Council.
That included Chris the nurse, who caught me without my face mask on when he first came to the room. I had overheard nurses telling other patients in other rooms that they needed a mask on when staff were in the room; I figured as long as we had Shobhit's door closed and no one else was there, I could take mine off. But, then I spaced that I had it off when Chris came in, and he immediately said, "You need to have a mask on, sir." Oh fuck. I apologized and quickly grabbed it and put it back on, where I kept it until I left again.
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I've had gratitude on my mind the past couple of days.
Laney and I actually talked about this, as it happens, at Happy Hour on Saturday, which was basically the last moment of normalcy in Shobhit's and my life before we took him to urgent care—largely at Laney's urging, in fact. (Danielle later effectively pushed his decision over text: "Don't fucking wait bc it's too expensive!")
We had met there, at Chuck's Hop Shop, which we also went to for a Happy Hour in February (ironically, it was colder this time, but at least still partly sunny), at 1:00. Shobhit had expressed interest in joining us so he could maybe talk to the manager about holding campaign events there. This even though he'd had a fever of over 100° the night before, but it was down to just above 99° Saturday morning, and he had felt like his fever broke later Friday night. This was before we had any inkling of appendicitis, and after two negative covid tests, we figured whatever the hell was going on was going away. It wasn't until after he left Laney and me a bit early, walked back home and took his temperature again that it become more concerning: he was back above 100° again.
Anyway. In the meantime, after Shobhit had gone home, Laney and I talked about how much better our lives are because he focus on gratitude—something she learned largely in the wake of her 2014 (I think) heart attacks; I've been consciously adopting it as a worldview and approach to life ever since my few months spent unemployed in 2002, which genuinely changed my life on this front.
I actually sent Laney an email this morning, with the subject line,
something on my mind.
I wrote, in part:
So Shobhit has been in the hospital two nights now, going on three days. Still, really, ultimately everything is fine.
It feels incredibly pertinent to bring up our conversation on Saturday about our approach to life, always from the vantage point of gratitude.
This appendicitis really put a monkey wrench into a lot of things, but I spent very little time fretting about any part of it through it all—only got genuinely worried, briefly, when we were in the ER and it was confirmed something was really wrong.
Shobhit's nature, of course, is kind of the opposite here. He cannot
stop thinking about what the ultimate expense of all this will be, right down to calling Aetna from his hospital bed yesterday morning. He had hoped to get our taxes done this week, and that's shot. He's be out of work for a few days. He probably needs to connect with the guy he recently met with regarding designing his campaign website.
I was supposed to go see John Wick Chapter 4
yesterday afternoon. I had another movie planned for tonight. I'll just reschedule these things.
The thing is: much like the example I gave on Saturday of when I was unemployed for a few months in 2002, my approach to this scenario is to see, first and foremost, how lucky we really were—how much worse this could have been, but we avoided the worseness by taking him in on Saturday evening. (To his credit, even Shobhit has said more than once that he's glad we came in, recognizing that if we hadn't, he would probably be in far worse shape right now.)
I've had more than one person ask how I'm holding up. In the group text I have with Gabriel, Lea, Mandy and Gabriel's other friend Andy, I was asked how well I slept. I was like, "I slept like a baby actually." When I know he's in good hands, I sleep fine.
I didn't know his appendicitis would turn out worse than initially assessed, of course, but once the surgery was done and I got the call, I knew he would be fine as well. I really think worry before you even know you have something to worry about is a true waste of energy and emotion, a pointless stresser that only hampers your overall health. Fuck that shit! I wish Shobhit could learn that lesson.
Anyway, broadly speaking, even with this event putting a hamper on both our schedules, I was thinking this morning about how effectively I managed to just "roll with the punches" here, and move on. To the point of our Saturday conversation, I know other people who would take this as "yet another thing on top of everything else," and get further bogged down. And I truly believe that having the right attitude going in to every unexpected challenge makes all the difference. You deal with what you have to deal with and move on. I think this is what makes me among the most contended people I know (you being arguably the only person who matches me in that arena 🙂).
There was something interesting and unexpected in Laney's response. I'll share just one paragraph from it:
It's interesting that I didn't even think to ask you how you're holding up during this process. Because I know how you're holding up. You are viewing it as something that happened that threw a wrench into things and thus shit happens. But I know that you knew as long as Shobhit was okay and being well taken care of that that was the most important thing and everything else I would have to just fall into place as best it can.
Indeed.
She also concluded, amusingly, with:
One of my favorite things that you've ever said is "it's not the end of the world until it's the end of the world"! So true. And I figure if that happens we're all screwed anyway and all we can do is just get as drunk as possible!
(To be clear, what I specifically like to say is "Nothing's the end of the world except the end of the world." Just for clarity!)
The only thing this was the end of was Shobhit's appendix. Danielle joked over text that he should ask if he can keep it—and he did. He can't keep it, of course. But, we were told they can provide high qualify photos of it. Yes, please! I need to add that to the Appendicitis photo album!
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In other news, Shobhit was brought solid food for his lunch at 11:44. He told me he had breakfast, but it was only cream of wheat; they gave him a veggie burger for lunch, making it is first solid food since lunch at Happy Hour on Saturday. It took him half an hour to finish:
Took my time, he texted me. And then he added he was actually unable to finish all of the burger.
So at about 550 calories, he added. For his lunch, I guess? He sent me a photo of the lunch that did include what looked like a receipt but was actually a breakdown of everything on his tray and what each thing's calorie count was.
The general sense I have is that they'll discharge him once he finally has a bowel movement. It's a strange space to be in, rooting for someone to take a shit. He farted in the middle of the night and that was cause for excitement! Or at least "encouraging," as that's closer to the kind of language the hospital staff are using.
Oh! Just got follow up texts from him. I have no idea what this means for his actual discharge but when I asked if it's time for me to go home, he replied,
Whenever you are ready. So I guess I'll post this and go back home!
— पांच हजार तीन सौ बहत्तर —
[posted 12:33 pm]
