Nothing really changed since yesterday. Still tons of phlegm, still a lot of coughing, still a feeding tube and still a nasal cannula for just a bit of oxygen.
Being in a hospital for more than just one or two days makes the time stop. The whole world keeps on turning while you're sitting a small room with a certain smell, old furniture, medical stuff everywhere. You move from the couch to the table, from the hospital bed to the bathroom to the room with the microwave.
At the end of the day you wonder what you actually did that day, what happened. You wonder if it really helps to sit in this weird bubble, waiting for cure, or at least improvement. You don't know when you are allowed to go home, not alone, not just for the next attempt to sleep. But together, for a long time, back to a life that is at least a little bit more real.
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