Bob & The Transman were the people I had to walk past to get the car at the Hospital.
Bob is a corrections officer who was sitting outside of the room two doors down in ICU. He didn't recognize me, but I know him from the old days at the local transclub. Today, though, he was polished and well groomed in his uniform.
The Transman was a security guard I rode with in the elevator. Short, and with adolescent male skin, I'm sure he rarely gets another look.
I would have something to say about queer in health care, but the doctor in the hot pink shirt and black leather vest had just come into my mother's room and asked why she was here.
She could have easily been sent home Saturday afternoon, but young Dr. Patel needed to check with Cardiology and never did, so it was Monday afternoon instead.
Two extra days in an intensive care unit bed.
Tomorrow at 9:10 AM, my father goes for the MRI of the hot spot on his scapula that his oncologist wants.