Mound Park. . .Bayfront Hospital. . .Hospice. . .The infamous three. . .the last step being Hospice.  The same piece of historical architecture had provided so many momentous events within the confines of it’s long vast hallways, stark white operating rooms, and overly sanitized patient quarters (I can still smell the nasal penetrating bleach fumes and the unidentifiable grotesquely awful hand soap that could be detected for days even after multiple showers- that smell stuck with a person, ugh!) in the lives of numerous families be it births, surgeries, illnesses, and the “home-going”, as is the best term I’ve discovered for death.

“Hospice” is the equivalent term to the end, the last step, here in the flesh before the “home-going” that assuredly is to follow.

On this particular night, sadly I was in my ADHD haze of underestimating the amount of time tasks take and overestimating the amount that I…