Tuesday
‘Dear teacher; Aiden won’t be in school today; he has a fever; signed, Aiden’s mom.’ Well that was most of Monday. Aiden wasn’t anywhere. Oh sure, I knew where I was and what was going on; I just didn’t care, and it didn’t seem real anyway. Early on Tuesday, a new patient was moved in to where Sol had been. This guy was snoring his ass off, and I hated him already. And he smelled. He had an I.V. pole with all kinds of s**t hanging off it, an oxygen tank, no flowers and only one visitor, and if he wasn’t a bum off the beach, I don’t know who would have been. The patient’s name was Bubba Gonzales. His friend looked stoned.
I was barely awake, in a crabby mood and hungry, though there was no way in hell I would consider even looking at the breakfast tray. Mr. Visitor wandered over a
