It’s early Sunday morning and I’m in a new room with another sick person on the other side of the curtain. I’m not aware of who this person is; there’ve been no introductions and, yet, we’re in beds about seven feet from each other. On one level, I didn’t want to meet the woman in the next bed. I felt I had enough to think about and I didn’t want to hear of another person’s struggles. Still, I was curious and wanted to be polite, but it was obvious she was sick (what with the nausea and coughing) and seemed to only speak French. She was talking on the phone a lot.

My friend Henri Nouwen said, “… Anyone who willingly enters into the pain of a stranger is truly a remarkable person.” I’ll pass on being remarkable today!

Basically, I survived the next several hours until after lunch. At around 2:00, I heard the door open and in walked my son Jameson and my wife Jenny with suitcases and backpacks in hand. My emotions released! I hugged Jenny and wept for quite a while in a strong embrace. Neither of us wanted to let go.

It just felt so good to see them both. That they had made it safe and sound to Montreal and the hospital and my room was cause for thankfulness. I felt closer to getting home. Jameson’s ticket from Dayton, OH, to Montreal routed him through Atlanta this morning where he boarded the same plane that Jenny was scheduled for and they had flown and arrived together. That was awesome.

I don’t remember all that we talked about, but I recounted the events of the past 24 hours and how I ended up in this room. I was trying to not lose track of time, but it was a challenge.

I felt loved and connected in a way that I hadn’t since Curt left on Saturday and I hadn’t felt as deeply since the week before when I left Atlanta for the workshop in Montreal.

I told them that all of the nurses and doctors knew that I was expecting to be discharged on Monday and that I needed a letter from Dr. Lalonde giving me permission to fly on Delta Airlines on Tuesday.

Eventually, or within a couple of hours, I was told that I would be moving down the hall to another room. With that warning, Jameson and Jenny went ahead and ate some lunch they had picked up on the way to the hospital.

We looked a bit out of place moving down the hallway. I was in a wheelchair and the nurses, orderlies and Jameson and Jenny were carrying plastic bags, coats, clothing and multiple suitcases. One of the patients in my new room asked if we just came from out-of-town! “Well, kinda,” I said. Jeff Foxworthy would call us, “The Clampetts Go to the Hospital.”

This new room was very large with 4 beds and 4 male patients curtained off in each corner. One of the patients was about to be moved or sequestered into a private space because he had some highly contagious illness. All the visitors in the room were wearing masks and gowns. Not sure we want to be here! But, soon he was gone.

However, the fact of that man with the highly contagious disease having been in our room, we would shortly be spending over three hours in the hall waiting as a team of cleaning personnel in sanitary garb decontaminated our room and the room across the hall. They scrubbed or changed everything in the room. This included new furnishings, linens, and curtains – both those dividing the room into quadrants and the ones hanging over the windows.

I was thankful to have the three newspapers to read and to share with my fellow patients.

Jenny and Jameson left as the cleaning project ensued. They caught a taxi and went to the hotel to check in and then meet up with Gus and Paola for dinner.

It was a blessed Sunday for me as part of my family had travelled many miles to see me. And I was actually feeling better in this larger and brighter room next to a large window.