When Sleep Catches Up to Me

It's 2:43 in the morning, and my mind is in the lead, racing ahead of sleep. The world feels tired and sad to me, but it's just me, not the world. The world is the world, and everyone's got their own opinion of it.

So much to do. I'll kick it down the road if I'm able and just sit by my dad’s bed with my Airpods on, play a game, check my email, read. He had to go to the bathroom, but he's strapped to the bed and delirious. Kept calling weakly, “Louie, Louie, Louie.” I told him just to go, but he's deaf and his hearing aid is probably dead, and he's drifting in and out of sleep.

The white blood cells are still high, and he's too old for surgery, so a tube’s got to go in for the gallbladder to drain. Probably forever, this time.

I stick around for a while, waiting for the nurse. My dad’s asleep and snoring, with the tube in him. I pack up my gear and head out the back way, avoiding eye contact and the phalanx of guards and other rule enforcers. Here in the hospital, it's still 2020, and even alone in his room, asleep and bothering no one, somebody's made sure he's wearing a mask.