In 1751, Benjamin Franklin persuaded the citizens of Philadelphia to combine taxes and donations to open the first hospital in the colonies.
Today my husband, Mr. J, was a patient at the very same hospital. He had surgery. We got to the hospital at 5:30 a.m., he went under the knife at 8:30, was sent to recovery at 9:40, and
I have no idea how I will get him up to the second floor. But just now he's feeling no pain, thanks to medication that really should be dripping into his arm as he lies safe and sound in Ben's hospital.
They let me sit with Mr. J until he was ready for anesthesia. Then I went to a big waiting room where other families of surgical patients were waiting. One by one the other families heard from doctors, either by an old-fashioned phone or in person. Finally, Mr. J's surgeon came in and said Mr. J is all fixed up and will be fox-trotting soon.
But then, while I was waiting even more, I heard the phone ring in the waiting room. The attendant answered it and started calling out a family's name. "Anyone here for Smith? Smith? Smith?" When no one responded, the attendant said into the phone, "I think Smith is a lone wolf."
My heart broke for Smith. A "lone wolf." What a term to use for an unfortunate soul who has no one to help him after a surgery!
Friends, please petition the bored gods to stand beside all the lone wolves out there who face tough ordeals all alone. We are a social species, meant to help each other out. Some of us still fall through the cracks. May the Gods and Goddesses be with them.