Saline water gurgles over my right shoulder sounding like an aquarium. In the next room a television drones on as someone wins the Showcase Showdown. The mere sound of a game show makes me nauseous, transports me back forty years to sick days home from school.

The smell of hospital food is unmistakable, sickness and sorrow stirred into chicken broth. In the corridor a nurse bellows, “I hated being pregnant—worst experience ever!”

Some women love being pregnant.” Another responds, shocked at her confession.

“Only crazy women!” She continues down the hallway, skipping Gene’s room. The lunch cart needs a squirt of W-D 40.

From my fake leather chair I murmur, “I was one of the crazies.”

Gene doesn’t reply.

Musical Pairing:

While staying with my mother at Plano Medical Center, I heard a few stanzas of Brahms Lullaby playing softly over the loudspeaker. The tune, like a music box, was played randomly throughout the day and night, offering a nice break from the hum of hospital equipment. 

“What’s the purpose of the music?” I asked Jessica, Momma’s dedicated day nurse.

“We play the music, each time a baby is born here.”

A sweet reminder, sometimes necessary in the hospital, that life is exceptionally good.