“I’m definitely a breakfast person. Waffles, to be exact. French toast is a close second, though,” Tom smiled as their hands met fully for the first time. “Any idea when you get to bust out of this place?”
“Uhh I dunno…I’ve tried to ask but the nurses beat around the bush or just do what they need to do and leave” he said shrugging his shoulders “I’m assuming in a day or two..um perhaps if I press this button we can get an actual doctor in here to ask or a nurse that knows?”
Tom sighed. “Typical Nurses at this hospital. They’re great at what they do, but aren’t much for conversation. Here. I’ll go ask and get to the bottom of it. I have some sway with the nurses.” He grinned, popping up from his seat and darting out the door. He was gone for less than 5 minutes before popping back in the room with a mischievous grin on his face and his hands behind his back. Tom leaned against the door frame. “You were right. A few more days. Three, at the most. They gave me this,” he stated, wiggling the device where Gerald could see it as he walked over and resumed his place at the bedside. “It’s called a spirometer. It’s meant to exercise your lungs and to help good oxygen get into every nook and cranny of those poor, smoke riddled lungs of yours,” Tom joked, handing the device to the other. “You breathe in, trying to get the marker to this line,” he explained. “But not too often, your lungs still need time to recover.”