My brother is flat on his post-operative back, tethered to his hospital bed like a docked freighter, tubes going into every natural and created orifice. A nurse circumnavigates the bed checking monitor screens for vital signs, adjusting catheters, smoothing sheets. Then, heading for the door, the nurse says over his shoulder, “I’ll be back.”
My brother replies, “I’ll be here.”
He’s doing better. This concludes the current series of medical reports. Enough, already.