After work I met Jen and Elyssa at Tiffany's for dinner, and a good time was had by all. Except the animals, who wondered why I came home just long enough to let Jethro out but not long enough to feed them. They survived until I got back.
Jen and I were talking about catastrophic illness, and what we would and wouldn't want treated. I remembered right after you died, when everybody was asking me where I was going to move, and I finally asked the town in general if they were trying to tell me something. I said that I was staying right here; I'm leaving Topeka in the back of Yeager's hearse. Tonight I was thinking that it would be easier for Jen if I died in the hospital. And it occurred to me that I would really love to die in the same room you did.
Is that strange? Of course, being in a hospital isn't at all stressful to me as long as I'm off the time clock. But you were in that room three times. It feels like home. Yes, you died there. But we had some good times before that and I really love that room. I haven't said this to anybody else - they'd be likely to go get a net. But I know that you understand. There would be symmetry to it, a kind of coming home.
So I'm putting in my reservation. If I ever need an ICU bed, I want that one. And you'll know exactly where to find me. Going home in order to go home. I like the idea.
Your strange wife,