My life this week has revolved around St. Thomas Hospital. 

I know St. Thomas really well.  We’ve been hanging out there off and on for about 30 years, beginning with a surgery my Dad had in 1979 and then with his cancer diagnosis in 1983 through his death in 1992.  Mom’s husband after Dad spent a great deal of time at St. Thomas between 1997 and when he died in 2004. 

It still smells the same.  Some of the decor is the same.  When Mom went into her room night before last, I was instantly taken back…this scene right here


The ugly paneling on the closet and the sign for patients about to be discharged…one of those scenes you don’t think about when you go years without seeing it but then, when you see it, it’s like jumping in a time machine. 

I get the same, Time Machine effect when I walk down the hallway….the clocks…same ones they’ve had since forever.


I wandered downstairs for a few minutes today while the nurses were doing some stuff with Mom.  I’ve always loved the chapel at the hospital.  Even as a kid, I thought it was a most peaceful, lovely room. 


They have a prayer book in there where people can write their prayers.  What a neat touch.  I’ve been one to write my prayers for a long time.  I blame the ADD for not being able to focus when I verbally pray, although I do verbally pray a lot, I like writing them.  Like C.S. Lewis said, prayer doesn’t help God, but, it sure helps me. (Or something like that)