# At the Hospital I'm often there, at the Hospital. I come from money, I grew up in suburbia, with a home, a house, sports activities, museum visits, books, and musical education. Here at the Hospital, it is a reminder. A Recall, to what lives are. Today my room neighbor, is an old man, can't see, can't properly walk, nor move. He's living alone. He has a home meal service, delivered everyday at his place. Now he's waiting. Waiting for his blood results to come in. Then he will leave, some relative of him will pick him up. I've been here since 9:30 and I arrived in a empty room. I thought I would be alone this time. Then I saw his bag, with his jacket, and plastic bag of tupperwares full of food. Later, he came. A nurse walked him with a hospital wheelchair. He climbed on our big blue chair, and ask for help to set the correct inclination, for proper lomber ease. [what would be a hôpital with eames brown chair, in each room ? ] Now it is Wed Mar 6 13:25:20 CET 2024, He is still silent. Sat in his big blue chair, arms resting on the arm rester, looking at the wall. We talked a lot, between every of my todo-lists tasks. I'm writing next to him right about now. It feels wrong a bit. But this is important to me. I'm there three weeks out of four. This week I'll be here three day in a row, for treatments, appointments and so on. I bike to the hospital. I like it. A straight long bycycle road along the canal river. I tried to ask him gently, what he likes to do. When the weather is dry, he sits in his courtyard, along the RN, National Road. Lots of Heavy trucks are passing by. A lot of noise he said; he's used to it he said; since he grew there. It always have been as so. On week-ends it is quieter. I know the town, know the road, that's my road to my Grand-parents House. My room neighbor lives about 15km from the hospital, I eight, but I can bike there. He can't. He can't drive. Doc have forbid him to, since his last two strokes. Also he can't see, so yeah, no autonomy there. I asked if he takes on stroll sometimes. He answered no, that he can't properly walk. Sun is shining in our rooms, it is welcome. I can hear him humming. Hence why he sat in his courtyard, only when the weather is dry. Lately it has been humid, lots of rain, the river are scrouching out of their bed to live on beyond the dam. "are you sure you don't want to sit ? - No, no it's okay - Ok, because that's not very human to let you stand as so…" my nurse said to a hallway bystander. My writing could make my neighbor extraordinary, but it kinds of summup every of my hospital days. It is quite common. I'm not use to it tho, it still feels abnormal, I still want to help. Ease their loneliness, their anxiety; I feel the urge to care too. However it isn't my place, I'm too a patient. Doctors, Nurses care for me. My feeling is one of solidarity — mutually addressed to patients, visitors, &caretakers, &me. [a dig ces espaces qui doivent être les espaces fines, insécables etc‥] 1N   8194 1M     8195 3M   8196 4M   8197 6M   8198 1T   8201 1H   8202 -1 ‐ 8208 -N – 8211 -M — 8212 -3 ― ­—-―- But Hospitals aren't only for caretakers, and caretaken peoples. Hospitals are public, finance by the public and for them, and also public as they are a public place. There's this dude I hanged out with during my last year hospital stays. He is living here, in the hospital, in the Hallway. He smoked with us, back then, now he doesn't recognize me anymore. He isn't crazy or sick, even if he does have a knee problem, and some skin rash from time to time. I went out to have a smoke, waited at the coffee machine, to skip the lunch rush at the cafeteria. However I know that at this time, they clean the coffee machine, so I waited for them to purge it, & refill it. There was this Lady on a bench, not even a meter away from me. I took the pose with my cables, machine hooked on a strolling potence. She was talking with two kids, playing inside the hospital hall with their scooters. They just have met. I learned a lot about them while eavedropping and cleaner-watching the two cafeteria employees. At some point I laughed, the big sister looked at me, frighten I figure. She was unsure of who I was. Assesing if I was a threat. I'm male looking, I'm a young white adult male looking; I figure it was a normal reaction of her. Later in their conversations, we crossed our gaze, I smile rather quickly to reassure her: I'm not trying to be mean, I'm just a bystander, in a hospital hall waiting for the coffee machine to be cleaned, because I like the non-human interaction to get my coffee, and stay in my lane, focus, listenning to my music. This time I was not listenning to music. I had my headset, but turned off. My neighbor is finally eating. He thought this would go quicker, that he would'have not waited that long, that he might have had the chance to eat at home. He said yes to the meal an hour later, at 1pm maybe. now it is: Wed Mar 6 13:51:06 CET 2024 One aide-soignante came, and said : - Sorry I forgot about you, didn't you said you wanted to eat something now ? - Uhm, yes‥ if it isn't too much on you. - yes no problem we kept ur meal platter hot - ‥ Are you sure it's ok ? I don't want to bother - No sir everything is fine, I'll bring it to you She left, and while she turned around, he shouted : - No soup please! In my solo-waiting line at the coffee-machine. One of the employee has left, the other is standing silently, two meters from me. I'm standing too. Hovering to the kid, and smiling at her. She smiled back. I'm not stressed anymore. I look at the second machine: a vending machine, with m&ms, kitkats, ‥, I figured it would be nice to offer them nice snacks. As a kid I remember craving for those, and they were a rare offering. Except during the birthday parties, where every brand of every sweets were there in absurd amount. We ate them until we were sugar drunk in hyperglycemia, headached, and tired. Later in their discussion with the lady the kids told her that they come from Turkey, and South Macedonia. They arrived in France some years ago. But are only here in this city, since December. They live in tent. The big sister says: it's harsh, difficult. The lady asks if they will go home to eat. The big sister answered, that they only eat in the evening. "Is it good ?" asked the sitting lady, they answered, both of them, little and big sister, that it can be nice, but most of time it isn't to their taste. OK, now my idea seemed relevant. The machine is cleaned, I go get my coffee. My credit card is refused, too many contactless payment I figure. I remember the weight of my overload small coin bag in my jeans backpocket. So I clumsily picked out, two fifties coin, one twenty, and one ten cents, to pay for my ristretto, non-sugared. Without thinking, my cigarettes and coffee in the same hand, my phone and headset in the other, I asked the kids if they wanted something to eat. The big sister took the responsability to answer. She was hesitant. I was stressed. How did I fucked up ? The bench lady, asks "do your parents allows you to accept food from strangers ?" Of course, I thought to myself. They're kids, I'm a stranger. Obviously it is weird. And on top of that I don't have the sympathy this old lady has, with her beautiful tiny glasses, blue coat, and cool stories about her Ivory Coast childhood. The big sister kept hesitating, I try to sell my offer in the more disposable way I could. I understood it was too much for her, and that she won't give me a yes nor a no. I said that I had to go to the cafeteria anyway, that after my cig I will go there, and I needed to pick something for my room neighbor anyway, so if they don't like it, I will give it to him, so it is fine for them to refuse. That's one of the lesson from my past, being homeless doesn't mean you will accept any help, being homeless, is still a place, as every human to refuse help, food or shelter. So you have to always let them opt out, especially with unasked help offer. Later I came back with two pretzels, the choice was difficult, but that's what I settled on. I figure, it's from here, they might have never eat one in their life, it is easy to eat, and I never met yet someone who hates bretzel. I show them what I had in my brown bag, she muttered a yes, so I smiled, layed the brown bag on the bench, between their scooters and the benched lady. They both latched a big thank you to me, i gave them my polite sentences, and took off. It wasn't the first time I helped someone in need here at the hospital, but first time it was kids. I lacked of manner. I believe our common uneasyness was from my initial approach and presenting, next time I should take a different path, especially with kids. I do hope I'll see them in a hour, when my treatment will be over, and all of the needles and cables plugged into my veins will be pulled out. I have finished reading myself, my treatment is over. And as always I gather insights about the nurse team. I'm playing the game of being in everyone's secret, in every nurse's team. I'm starting to have mapped the relationship between them all. They're colleagues, and they have colleague dynamic, but luckily none of them here are mean nurses. They all funny&kind, I really love them.