Sleeping against beauty

James is taking a nap when it is absolutely ravishing outside right now.  I should wake him from his slumber, tie his shoelaces, and make him take an afternoon stroll with me. I made myself a big pot of tea to stay awake and to avoid the siren song of the midday nap beside James. It is delicious inside too--the leaves on the tree outside his studio window are quivering in the breeze and the bedroom is cool and quiet.

We voted down the street in the congressional primary.  James filled in his bubble on the ballot sheet and turned to me asking, "That's it?" The hipster poll assistant with turquoise hair tips skipped over to us after we scanned our ballots and announced, "You did your civic duty for today!"

Imogen had her last day at school and we managed to return home from James's neurological appointment at Bellevue in time to snap a photo with her teacher.  She frowned last night when I explained that we would probably miss the dismissal time.  I was glad we made it back--the playground was filled with excited children and that release into the sunshine. James and I sang, as we walked to the polling site, "School's out for summer--school's out FOREVER."

In the car service to Bellevue this morning, the driver had the radio tuned to the jazz program I often played for James upon arrival at his room in the neurological intensive care unit. It was a strange coincidence, feeling scripted as we drove over the Williamsburg Bridge, succumbing to the swift flow of the cab in the clear blue air between Brooklyn and Manhattan.

I did not sleep well last night due to the anticipation of the return to the NICU with a walking James. James is sleeping now because he was restless too and lost restorative sleep. I do not think he was necessarily nervous about the appointment (a nice thing about short term memory difficulties--the anxiety often dissipates over time because the source is forgotten) but rather, being beside me and my energy in bed last night--it was osmosis.

The NICU team truly welcomed us by assigning my favorite resident, Yosef, to meet us for the appointment.  Yosef's expression upon seeing James able to stand up and walk on his own was fantastic--he laughed and took a step back in disbelief.  He hugged me without hesitation.  After our appointment, I walked James through the hospital to the bank of elevators that would take him to the NICU. It is a bit of a walk to arrive at the elevators and James asked me, "Did my brothers and Robert do this walk to see me?"  I nodded.  James seemed astounded. 

The moment you exit the elevators on the tenth floor of the hospital, the temperature drops at least five degrees. There is a definite chill in the air.  We walked past the frosted glass waiting room in which Imogen spent many hours while I was in the NICU with James.  I knew this would be emotionally strange for James but thought it would make sense for us to finish our time at Bellevue and give back to the nurses who very rarely have patient visitors. 

The nurses were ecstatic--full of smiles and embraces.  Jin Ha, one of my favorite nurses, was on shift and was beaming which was a contrast to her usual sober, focused demeanor. She joked that James was unrecognizable--perhaps, if he was lying down--she would know him better. Yosef popped up and we took a group photo to share with the other nurses who were not in the unit this morning. Jin Ha turned to James and asked, "Don't you recognize my voice? I was always yelling at you to open your eyes, squeeze my hand!" 

We walked out and I felt such a relief.  James could not believe he spent a month in that room--he saw the glass encased space, straight across from the nurses station.  I told him it was a relief to me that he was there because I would call the nurses at any time of night and they would be able to look right into his room and let me know how he was doing.  I watched James as his eyes moved into that space--another patient now occupying the bed--imagining himself there.

I have not really shared with James the details of the long moments I had in the NICU with him alone. How it felt to be in there with him, machines humming and the shock of hearing an alarm sound for another patient--the nurses would spring into action, someone would close James's glass doors to keep the sound out--and I would think, when would it be James's turn to die.

He's had a reprieve.  One of his applications for aid was rejected with the reason stating, "the applicant is deceased."  I imagine someone in the government pushed the wrong computer button and placed James in the dead category.

I purchased a small miniature rose bush right around Valentine's Day.  I meant to re-pot it but then, James entered the hospital and it shriveled from neglect. I placed it in a new pot anyway and stuck it out on the fire-escape to neglect it again! It was briefly covered in snow.  New leaves started to sprout but then, a swirl of young sparrows descended upon it to eat the fresh, green growth.  I shooed them away.  It is also scorching hot after midday out there and few plants do well once the weather turns to summer. This morning, I saw one bud, despite everything, waiting for the right moment to unfurl.