amended - writing doodle - day 13 - word count 511

Have you ever noticed that hospitals all smell the same?  The same town, across the country, all of the cleaning and maintenance departments get the same memo: make the room smell like a pine forest.  It doesn't matter if there has been a meal delivered within five minutes of the visit, the rooms smell like a commercial for pine cleaner.  Too bad I'm allergic to pine.

My grandfather's room was on the third floor, telemetry wing, right next to the nurses' station.  The  wing was all private rooms; there was no reminder I was his only visitor.  Neither of us lived in Missouri and it wasn't possible to get him to his hometown without some kind of medical flight; there was no way his insurance would cover it.

I hadn't been inside of a hospital for over a decade; the only things that were the same were the smell, the 1970s harvest gold decor,  and the uncomfortable chairs in the patient rooms.  

I knocked on the doorframe to announce myself. "Grandpa?"

The resoundingly chipper, "Sport, come on in.  Do you have any money?"

I peaked around the corner and saw two young nurses sitting on either side of the bed.  At least, I assumed they were nurses.  The scrubs and sensible shoes were a hint, but I used to own the pants and used them to sleep in.  That is back when I slept in something.

Money?

Why would he need money? Sure, there would be bills to settle after the insurances covered what they would cover, but his day to day needs were being met and he didn't need to tip after he received his meals.

"Why?"  Always better to ask why than to admit to something.  The last time I admitted to having money in my wallet, my ex-wife took all of the bills and credit cards and proceeded to buy herself a new wardrobe.

"We're just having a little fun," he said. "And they won't agree to playing strip poker."  He indicated each of the lovelies with a tilt of his head. "They think I have an unfair advantage."  

The only advantage my grandfather had was that he was wearing a hospital gown and a smile.  His card playing skills had always been rubbish, much like my own.

"How much money are we talking?"

"A couple of rolls," he said, "should be enough to keep me entertained for a few days."

Rolls of what?  Singles? Fives? Twenties?  I took on the underwriting of much of this trip because I wanted to, but the gambling was something I couldn't sponsor.  By the time I got him home and resettled, I'd have little left in my savings.  Not that I'm begrudging the cost of the trip, but it was going to take time to rebuild the reserve.

"Lincolns, boy.  Lincolns." He blew out a sigh and said to the blond on his right, "Gabriel has no idea how I roll."

"A roll of pennies?" I winked at him.  "I can bring that by later today.  Anything else you need?"

"Cheapskate."