Why I Hate Hospitals, Runar's Condition

I have always been wary of visiting hospitals. Surely I am not the only one who dreads them. From the moment I pull into a hospital’s parking lot, I reflexively begin to breath in and out in shallow, hurried gasps. My condition worsens as I enter the building. I try in vain to expel the stagnant air from my lungs before those exotic germs found only in hospitals can coordinate their attack. One must, at all costs, deny them access to the sensitive bronchioles from where they would, no doubt, wreak havoc on the entire respiratory system. I make it to the privacy of the elevator only to have it shattered, just as the doors are about to close, by the arrival of two gauze-masked orderlies pushing a trolley upon which a dying man rests. My first instinct is to flee, but the trolley blocks my path. Trapped, I listen to the feeble sound of his breathing; it reminds me of the coffee percolators of yesteryear. Then I notice that his simple, gray robe is adorned with a yellow sticky note. Four lines are penned cautiously in red. I can’t read Thai, but I know what it says.

TERMINALLY ILL

UNKNOWN AIRBORNE DISEASE

HIGHLY CONTAGIOUS

DO NOT INHALE!

Needless to say, I don’t inhale. By the time I’ve reached the floor of the unfortunate victim of whatever ailment or accident, I’m suffering the effects of severe oxygen deficiency. This, I’m convinced, is why people seem oddly euphoric and say silly things when they visit their dying friends or loved ones. My as-brief-as-possible visit concluded, I notice that nurses have begun to huddle nearby in small, suspicious groups, sensing my imminent collapse, perhaps. That you won’t be permitted to leave is, by far, the most frightening potential conclusion to an otherwise well-intended hospital visit.

It was with similar foreboding that I visited Runar a few days ago. As I approached the entrance to the unfamiliar hospital, a woman called out from behind me. It was Runar’s wife. She was carrying supplies of snacks, juices, etc. I relieved her of one of her packages and we proceeded up to Runar’s room. Entering, I was suddenly but only momentarily dumbfounded to see Runar casually walking about. Then I realized it was Runar’s older brother, who bears a striking resemblance. Runar was lying prone in his bed, as I’d expected. He was exceptionally lucid and seemed to be in good spirits despite his condition.

It has been difficult to get a good understanding of what his condition actually is. The aftereffects of severe trauma, no doubt, but both his neck and left arm have been periodically broken and not broken, his left side paralyzed and not paralyzed. It was a good opportunity to glean some more details.

The spinal column is complicated. From what I can gather, a number of his cervical vertebrae have become compacted, “squeezing out” something in between them (the intervertebral discs or disk annulus, perhaps?). Whatever has been squeezed out will regenerate itself over time, I was told. Runar claims that at first he could not move his left leg or arm. He has since made considerable improvement. Although painful, he can move them, and his doctors assure him that he will walk again. However, he has been advised that it will take a lot of time, if ever, to regain the normal use of his hands and fingers. His left arm is probably going to require surgery at some point. It is, in fact, broken. They seem to be certain that the pain in his left hand and lower arm is due to local nerve damage, and not related to his neck problems.

Most of the time Runar is wearing a soft neck brace. The stiff one before was causing him problems with chafing. When he is lying prone he wears the soft neck brace loosely around his neck. Recently they have been letting him try to sit up. In such cases he must wear the stiff neck brace. However, he can only manage a 30-degree incline for short periods. Time will pass more quickly, I think, when he can sit up and read or watch TV.

We also discussed his accident. The police have come to a preliminary conclusion that Runar swerved off the road to avoid an accident between two other cars. Runar can’t remember. We also discussed the possible ramifications when his blood test results are released. Why it is taking so long, nobody knows. Everybody knows Runar was drunk, but it will be interesting to know just how drunk he was.

This is a photo of Runar’s brother giving Runar’s neck a scratch. I’d use his name but it is one of those Norwegian names that a group of five of us at the pub that evening couldn’t remember. His presence, I believe, has been absolutely vital to Runar’s well-being. I admire him greatly. I also admire Yorkshire Bob’s craftsmanship. The “blue mirror thing” you can see in the photo is Bob’s creation. It may be somewhat crude, but it allows Runar to see ahead and make eye contact with his visitors.