I am making my way through the lobby of Nassau University Medical Center, past the cafeteria, the large screen TVs broadcasting CNN and the baby grand player piano that a pre-school student visitor recently declared, "plays by magic.”
I have laser pinpoint direction and vision, walking swiftly to medical records as if it is the final destination in a video game. I am grateful that today, I am not visiting the family member who was discharged in July but an administration office that can give me a copy of tests and results for an impending visit to a new doctor next month.
As the employee finds the details on his computer and orders the CDs and paper reports I have time to look around the office. There are remnants of home — a Shutterfly calendar with smiling faces, a computer generated prayer for grace and strength, some Christmas decorations that aren't coming down because they quote poignant Silent Night lyrics. It's almost like there is a concerted effort to remind me that this transaction is not as mundane as it seems, but rather the culmination of a long rehabilitation journey that I am hoping has a happy ending.