Hey, Death, got a quarter?

Last night while visiting my new nephew, Conor, we were shooed out of the room so the nurses could check my sister-in-law*. We walked down to the nursery to gaze at the 8 lb. perfection through the glass (where, BTW, there was a 9 lb., 15 oz. chunk who looked like he was ready to play football for Trinity High School).

As my brother, his best friend, Tony, and his best friend's wife, Kelly, were standing there joking and laughing at the babies, a nurse wheeled through a man headed for pallative care. He had his head thrown back, his mouth agape** and a blank stare on his face. He was followed by a sobbing woman who was obviously his daughter and her somber husband.

OK, total buzz kill.

My group got very quiet and stared down at the floor as they wheeled him around the corner toward pallative care; basically he was on his way to die***.

Now, I'm not sure what hospital administrator's bright idea it was to put PALLATIVE CARE next to the MOTHER/BABY WARD, but that person really should rethink his or her career choice. It was the epitome of piss-poor planning.

(Also located next to pallative care was the sleep disorder clinic. Kelly and I like to believe the old man just needed some help with his sleep apnea. Yeah, that has to be it.)


* BTW, the quote of the day? My brother standing there looking at his baby son and (jokingly) saying to the nurses, "It's amazing what you can do in the backseat of a car..."

** Trying to steal the babies' souls?

*** I'd left my purse in the room, and I really really needed a soda, so I should've asked the Grim Reaper for that extra quarter I needed for the vending machine, but he was obviously busy helping this old man into the light.