Last night I was doing a crossword puzzle in bed and mush was the answer to one of the clues. It was "Iditarod" call or something like that. As I was writing the word, I got choked up--in a good way. It immediately triggered a memory and put me in a place I can describe to a T even umpteen years later.
When Ian was a toddler he spent an enormous amount of time in Boston Children's Hospital, a place very close to my heart. When he would want to escape his room or hide from the doctors, we would lift him into a stroller or wagon and walk the halls. We knew every inch of that place, even the basement where the broken equipment was stored behind chain link walls.
On the 6th floor there were only cardiac patients. They were divided into 2 sections. The CCU behind a scary door and the regular ward. Ian liked the hallway that connected them. It was long and had windows all the way along. The floor was heavily waxed linoleum. There were rarely people there and when there were, they understood exactly why we were there and what we were doing. Keith would walk fast and swerve around to make Ian smile.
One day we were all walking together and Ian started saying mush to Keith. His speech had been affected by his brain injury, so I was trying to figure out what he was saying. Keith began to run.
They had to explain to me that "mush" is what you say to sled dogs when you want them to go faster. I had never heard that before. It was cool to see the special bond they were sharing and that Ian was still sharp, even with all he was going through. There were days when we would have to stop and catch our breath from running that hall so many times.
It's been a long time since I've thought of that. It's nice to have a good hospital memory.
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