Hope for Tomorrow

When people find out that I moved from America to Germany, they incredulously ask, "Why?"
Of course, it makes me like I am a fool. But there are reasons. One of those reasons is in the hospital now. Probably two of the reasons are at the hospital right now.

Asmus's father, Friedrich, has been struggling against a variety of ailments for about three months in a variety of institutions and his wife, Margot, is at his bedside hoping he will eat some of her energizing vegetable soup and get better.

I have had few long-term relationships, so I have little experience supporting people who do not share my DNA. Add to that, dealing with a foreign health care system and I am lost.

Hospitals, like everything in Germany, are much quieter than their American cousins. Also, there is much less privacy. As ridiculous as curtains are, they do supply patients with a semblance of alone time. Friedrich's rooms have not been equipped with this faux wall. He does not have the best hearing, so I try to talk loudly but not too loud. I want to say something interesting but not too personal.



The worse thing is that you can never find a doctor. But Asmus's family is much more patient than me and is in control, so I do nothing. I guess that's good because my poor German would immediately turn into aggressive and mean English.

Things are pretty stressful. Good news comes and bad news immediately takes its place. I am more comfortable with constants. This roller coaster ride of sickness is especially draining. However, out of all this pain the brothers are talking to each other more and old friends have strengthened bonds.

I just show up with bananas and try to be perky.