Hospitals are not the most interesting of places.

When you are confined to a small mushroom pink room, your world closes in on you in a matter of hours and not days.

The crazies set in.

Hospitals are not the most interesting of places.

Especially when your charge spends  the majority of time sleeping or lying motionless on oversized, rubber mattressed beds.

You know in the movies, when the lead character is waiting for something amazing to happen and the scene flicks to the loudly ticking clock on the wall? The second hand moves forward slowly and then, as if it has had other thoughts, moves backwards two ticks.

When I am sitting on the green monster, that also converts to the fold out cardboard box that is my ‘bed’, that is what my mind’s eye sees.

That clock.

As Ivy recovers from her acute illness, we often watch DVDs or whatever mindless stuff is on the hospital television.

That or draw.

There is always drawing to be done, when it involves the girl.

If our stay is particularly long Ivy will sort things.

Buttons, beads, anything that can be sorted or sifted through, really.

It’s another way of coping. Another way of being able to control her situation,

at least,

that is what my internal psychologist  tells me late into the night, when I am worrying about her wellbeing.

When we came to the hospital this time, I knew it was going to be a long stay.

What I didn’t know, was that about four days into our stay, parcels and packages were going to show up.

Craft and beads and colouring, books and stickers.

Magazines and motivation, humour and love, all wrapped up and sent to our tiny room.

Not only that but texts and messages and cards and emails.

All the things that would see Ivy and I through.

All these things from the most amazing people, all over the place.

So unexpected these

earth angels.

Friends.

Still, the packages keep arriving.

Uplifting, wonderful pieces of the heart

and

I wanted you all to know.

I wanted to say thank you.

I wanted you to see that you saved our sanity.

Again.

I only hope I can return these random acts of kindness one day.