The Roommate

I've been warned I am getting a roommate - another "long timer", most likely. (The nurses call us "long timers".) I love people, and yet I dread having a roommate. I don't have a fear of not liking her, or of her driving me crazy, or of her keeping me up all night long with snoring. I dread it because she is a stranger. Over the years, I have learned some tactics for keeping my spirits up. Excersizing. Hiking. Picking flowers. Bed rest has taught me the importance of friends and family. Visits have been my greatest tool to combating depression. And visits are suddenly being ripped away from me. I know it is technically okay to have visitors and I hope you all continue to come. But all intimate and personal conversation is suddenly gone. How am I supposed to call John and tell him how much I love him and cry and tell how much bed rest sucks and that I feel miserable he is missing all of Darren's kicking - with a complete stranger sitting a couple of feet away from me? Connecting with my husband is already a challenge. How am I supposed to confess all my greatest fears to my friends? How can I expect my friends to tell me anything personal? Or my husband? And God help me when the kids come to visit all hyped up on hospital ice cream cups and then slide around the floor on the IV stand - while that stranger is trying to sleep! And should I move all the art they have plastered all over the walls?

I want to be kind - really kind from the depths of me. I want to be kind with an I-know-this-really-sucks-and-I-wish-the-best-for-you-and-yours compassion. I want to be generous with a sure-I'll-give-up-the-window-side-of-the-room attitude. How can I feel so selfish?

Still, here's to hoping the situation is only for a day or two.