March 30th, 9:44 pm

What does one do in the hospital? Other than sit quietly and wait for release? I don't know, and I bet Stew doesn't know either. When I talked to him tonight he sounded bored. And tired. Bored and tired. Of course, he can't have any electronic equipment in the hospital because it could be stolen. Aren't hospitals great?

He had a pretty horrible morning, what with leaking IV and the accidentally pulled out tubes. Ouch, I still say. I've offered to go down there and beat up the hospital staff if necessary, and he says he wishes I would. I should have asked, first of all, if they're bigger than me. I may need reinforcements. Fighting isn't really my thing, after all. I'm not exactly what one would call . . . skilled. Or ept. My only real chance is in falling on them, a valuable skill I learned in Aikido before I dropped out.

Anyway, so he's not feeling so good, but he's feeling better than he was. I tell him it'll be over before he knows it and he'll be able to go home. I tell him these things, but I know 10 days in a hospital can seem like a year. I've spent a day or two in the hospital before and it always seemed an eternity. He's still only sitting in a chair for periods of time, not even doing the walking thing yet. How fun. Not.

I told we were going to San Diego in July for a wedding. He said, "a wedding and a funeral." I said, "we aren't going to any funerals this year, or next year, or the year after." He said okay. I know at times he's been so miserable he wished it would just end, but it's just not time yet.

Not that I would know, I'm just saying.