HIPPA has made everyone very so closed mouthed. If they even acknowledge there is another patient on the floor, they have to kill you.
It is sort of like being in seventh grade and the mean girls are keeping secrets.
I am so tired of being blind sighted with finding out someone had died. Last night it was in a college newspaper.
I know lots of people, I see lots of people. We talk and share stories but not always e-mail and Facebook and Caringbridge and blog addresses. Sometimes we don't know the names or diagnosis. We don't snoop but we have a story about each of them. This was Nerf gun guy. He would be admitted, and often have a very young roommate. He had an arsenal of weapons. He would gather the kids and there were endless wars.
I often was bombarded by soft brightly colored foam. It added a moment to the floor's frivolity.
Well another bright, caring, loving guy has fallen. Osteosarcoma is a bad thing. I have long memories of this disease because as a child I remember my dad's concern for Patrick Kennedy when he had it. He was only 8 or 9 and so was I. They took his leg. There was no other treatment for it. Dad expressed concern about how it spread. It loves lungs and other bones. Nothing much has changed in all those years.
Nolan is gone. I think I will give the floor some Nerf guns.