Vassar Hospital Room 436

Considering how much I have been in and out of Vassar Hospital this past weekend, I’ve decided to use that as an inspiration for this week’s blog post. My grandmother entered the hospital early last week, which was enough time for her to make the space her own. Her hospital room consisted of a single bed, two chairs and a bathroom. Over the course of a few days, my grandmother managed to make it her own.

She had the comfiest chair in between her bed and the windows, so that she could look out at the view of the Hudson River. That chair, although already lined with cushions to make it as comfortable as possible, was then covered with various blankets that she would use to drape over herself for warmth.

For most of her visit, the food tray was in front of that one chair by the window. It held all of the necessities like a tissue box, a water pitcher, and sanitary wipes. However, it had also accumulated various items that she determined necessary for life. This included Hershey’s chocolate bars, sugar packets (hidden of course), and Mallomars. The essentials were always hidden in the various drawers of this tray table. Although this table was mostly stationed in front of her window seat, it traveled over the bed for the occasional breakfast.

Now, the bed was definitely her personal space by the end of her hospital stay. At the foot of her bed we tied extra slipper socks around the bed handles to make sure that she always had a pair available. At the head of the bed, which only ever had one pillow, there was also a lengthy scarf that I gave her for her birthday last month. When I went to visit her on Valentines Day she was wearing it around her neck and although she did look a little ridiculous draped in this long red, white and green scarf, it brought color into the otherwise white hospital room. When she the scarf is not keeping her warm, it remains at the top of her bed with that single pillow and somehow manages to brighten up the horribly drab room. On top of both the scarf and the pillow rests a tiny plush puppy that she recently received as a gift for Valentines Day. The small dog barely left her pillow in the day or so since she got him except to follow her to chair this morning. Regardless of its placement in the room, it also seemed to lighten the air in the room.

This morning when we packed all of these individual items into a plastic hospital bag they lost some of their importance. Then the room became just another messy, unoccupied room on the fourth floor of the hospital. While her stay may have been short, thankfully, my grandmother made the small space they gave her into her own personal living area. Now that room is just another blank slate, waiting for someone else’s relative to lie in the bed and move in their important belongings.

I hope that once this week is over I will not have to step foot in Vassar for a fairly long time. However, if another one of my family members goes in, I have already compiled a list of the essential items they will need with them during their stay in the hospital.

2 thoughts on “Vassar Hospital Room 436

  1. Shelby, I hope your grandmother is doing well! You certainly did a great job describing how she and your family transformed the hospital room. I am really fascinated by the way all these relatively little things scared off the sanitariness of the hospital, and I think it really demonstrated for me what Miller is talking about in Stuff when he notes that people with strong relationships with material objects tend to be happier people. Your grandmother’s insistence that she have the stuff necessary for life, including her sweets, the scarf, and the puppy, certainly seemed to keep her spirits up as well as the people around her. I also think it is interesting that these objects seemed to lose their importance when they were packed up. It seems like, in a weird way, the hospital room really was their habitus. It would be interesting to see how they work into the habitus of your grandmother’s real home.

  2. Yes, I hope your grandmother is feeling better as well! I agree with Elise, your descriptions were wonderful and your definitely can see your grandmother’s spirit through her connections to objects. It reminds me of a story in the book “The Emperor of All Maladies” by Siddhartha Mukherjee. The author visits one of his patients in her hospital room and he is surprised by her nonchalant mannerisms, comfort and strength. It is only as he gets to know her that he realizes that everything in the room has been carefully calculated. I think the same thing is evident in your grandmother’s room; occupying a hospital room is sort of like moving, though temporary, where you have to narrow down your necessities. Every object has to be considered, and in doing so, they can make all the difference.

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