View from the Seventh Floor

Ironically, the view from the seventh floor of the hospital in which my mom is staying is gorgeous. We don't have a clue as to how the hospital (rebuilt version of an older hospital in the area) managed to get its claws on so much undeveloped land. The environs seem larger than many good sized farms. And what does one see? Trees, trees, trees. There is even a creek.  Quite the pricey output for a hospital that does not have more than two vending machines for seven floors (and a very mediocre cafeteria, but oh well..)

Also ironically, most of the nurses -I'd say over 60 percent) are plus sized. None of them seem the least bit interested in having conversations about their bodies. Not that I have tried...they are civil to me, just about. They adore my mom (thank goodness for that, at least), a little lady of 85 who has shrunk to 4'9 and now weighs 87 pounds (she lost a lot of weight due to illnesses). Still beautiful, though, and many of them remark on it.

It would be wonderful to write a poem about these nurses, so many of them fat, who look at me, a fat person, with disdain, and who thus probably look on their own fat bodies, bodies that do so very much for them day by day, with disdain.