My days at University Hospital were numbered, and really it was about time for me to leave. My health concerns had cleared up and a bed had opened up. It was common for discussions about a patient to occur at the patient’s room door. The doctor’s assumed the patient couldn’t hear what was being said but I had. I had not heard the entire conversation. I had heard something about just before or just after the long weekend in May.
I couldn’t help but look forward to the long weekend. In the past I had looked forward to the long weekend because it was a type of kick off for the summer and some serious partying would occur. This long weekend held a different significance it meant....... moving forward. I didn’t look forward to weekends while in the hospital since it meant that my routine was interrupted. The normal staff had the weekends off. But this weekend couldn’t come fast enough. I had never been formally told that this was actually happening. Nonetheless I was convinced of what I had heard.
The day finally arrived.
It began the same as every other morning. It wasn’t until a few hours before it was actually going to happen that I was officially told I was being transferred. That’s when the anxiety set in. I can only guess the reason for the anxiety. As boring as things were, at least I knew what to expect. It was bittersweet. I was moving on but leaving behind the comfort of familiarity.
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