You would think that they would put more thought into the seating options in hospitals. After all, it's not uncommon that people plant their asses into them for hours on end. The one I currently occupy in Nic's hospital room isn't much better than the terrible bargain-bin versions back at the police station I frequent in LA. Theirs actually might be better, and that's really saying something.
Nic has a skull fracture and a break in his arm that is going to require surgery and some pins in order to fix him up correctly. The only silver lining to that is that we are able to stay in Nic's room instead of being relegated to the waiting room full of grieving strangers. I can't handle that vibe. There's something about shared sorrow that's like a vortex pulling in anyone within its radius. Sometimes that kind of suffering can be too much to bear.
