A friend and I were discussing writing and inspiration recently, and the question of  “Hunter or Gatherer” came up.  (Elizabeth Gilbert briefly writes about this concept here.) The Hunter goes out to track down and chase inspiration, energized by movement and change.  The Gatherer stays close to home, in quiet reflection. “She grows and cultivates ideas, rather than chasing them.”  My friend and I decided that surely, we must be Hunters, based on our similar personalities.

But it’s not always one thing, is it? I would love to go and chase down inspiration, I adore hearing other people’s stories, but I spend a lot of time alone, reflecting, thinking. Sometimes it drives me nuts, honestly, all these ideas and thoughts I’m hoping to connect together. I have started taking a little notebook with me at all times, just to jot down notes, in case I need to remember later. I’m using my phone’s voice memo app if I’m driving (though I haven’t been able to go back and listen to any of these thoughts as I hate hearing my recorded voice.) Still, the words are there if I eventually need them. I’ve become a Gatherer, though I’d rather be a Hunter.

So…I was sitting next to Vernon’s bed in his hospital room yesterday, notebook and pen at the ready.  Vernon was directing me to find him music to listen to on Spotify (his anti-anxiety drug of choice.) Doctors and nurses were coming in and out informing me that tests were being ordered, but we didn’t know when they would happen or exactly what solutions they might lead to. In my phone-notes, I wrote: Venogram and Thrombosis, thinking they would make more sense later, when I could google the terms on my own. I also wrote: Risk of Heparin induced thrombocytopenia (impressive that my predictive-text had that one in its vaults.)

Vernon was uncomfortable but sleepy, only wanting his music. Instead of climbing the walls, I went down to the cafeteria for some food…but really, I knew it was time to hunt. I thought back to all those months at Mission Hospital last year, when Vernon was in the coma. How had I stayed interested, curious, inspired?  How had I found something to write about every night, when he wasn’t even moving and the doctors could give me no prognosis. I’d gone hunting. I’d taken walks with my camera phone. I’d listened to people at other cafeteria tables, watched family members of patients huddling in waiting rooms, made friends with the coffee cart guy. “I get to be here today, in this strange world. This is an opportunity, a treasure hunt. What am I going to find? And is it around the next corner?”

It was amazing, just recalibrating my attitude. The hospital became an curious place again. And almost immediately, in that basement cafeteria, I was rewarded.  Check out these pictures:    

I was cracking up. Each department decorated a different pumpkin. See if you can guess who did which? Physical Therapy is my personal favorite.

After that small mood-lifting encounter, the day totally turned around.  I had just seen my good friend Sue’s daughter Caitlyn on our floor. In all the times we have been at Hoag, Vernon had never been on her floor, but this time, she was actually looking after Vernon while his nurse took a break. While on my own lunch break, I called Sue to let her know. She just happened to be driving near the hospital with her husband. He was willing to drop her off if I’d take her home later. Next thing I knew, we were all hanging out together, waiting for Vernon to be taken to Radiology.

Oh, but it didn’t stop there. Soon after, I got a call from bestie Melissa, who happened to be driving to San Diego with her her family (from LA) and wanted to stop by in passing.

You can’t tell, but I’m wearing Melissa’s gorgeous hair and holding Elizabeth Gilbert’s new book. You can tell we are wearing yellow gowns because of Vernon’s hospital history of MRSA.

Vernon went into surgery safely. He was adamant that he didn’t want to have general anesthesia, so I’m curious if he understood that he was about to go under. He nearly crawled out of the moveable bed on his way to the theatre. “I just need help getting my feet and legs out,” he pleaded to anyone nearby.

From my understanding, the surgeon was going to open up some veins around his new central venus catheter (in his chest) and perhaps add a stent. I’ll get more details about whether they found anything else later this morning, back at the hospital.

I left him there, Caitlyn calling us on our way home, to ensure us Vernon was back in his room.

And that, hopefully, is where I’ll find him this morning. Have a great day!

I think I got my groove back. So I’m going to!

One more friend was there: Talar with Sue.