Still in hospital. (Yes, still. Let’s get that out of the way, because apparently some people assumed I’d been sprung last week. Not yet. Could be days. Could be months. Who knows.)

This afternoon turned into a small comedy of wins and losses. First: bingo. I walked in, first one to sit down, and picked a seat with a card that flashed at me: B11, O69. I thought, “okay, this one’s mine.” Sure enough, first round — won. Last round — full card — won again. A double prize haul, both times.

What did I get? Two “bundle bags.” One filled with little treasures: a blank journal, a hidden-word activity book, a pack of cards, and two pencils. The other was basically a survival kit of toiletries: toothbrush, floss sticks, deodorant, lip balm, even a washcloth. Prized now because I literally have nothing but my pyjamas and phone with me, no change of clothes or underwear beyond the disposable ones they offer here…

Then the full card win… Added snacks on top of the other wins — bear paws, a Rice Krispies square, and chocolate-topped cookies, not good for my blood sugar but I’m not overly concerned about that for now. I walked out with arms full like I’d raided a dollar store jackpot. Lol. My dream come true. Not. But I’ll take the windfall gratefully all the same.

The timing made it sweeter: just before, I’d been on the phone with my stepfather, confirming details about Stella being brought to him tonight. So the day had its practical wins too.

And then there’s this other odd little “win” I’ve been noticing. People keep telling me I look fantastic. A nurse from the ER who hadn’t seen me in two weeks said I looked great. The man calling out the bingo numbers thought I was 40. (I’m not, I’m 56.) My stepfather, when we video-chatted, told me I had a glow. I don’t know where it’s coming from. Maybe it’s grief of kowing my father was in his last days this time last year making me soft and open, or maybe it’s the weird alchemy of being vulnerable but still showing up. Whatever it is, apparently it’s working.

The “loss” part? The phone rules. Today’s nurse showed up asking if I was going to give my phone back — as if yesterday hadn’t happened with me walking around all day in plain sight, phone in hand. Apparently the file still says “two hours, twice a day.” I shrugged. I’ll take it up with my doctor if she ever materializes. Meanwhile, I’ve got a journal, cards, lip balm, a glow, a full bag of cookies — and the Wood Wide Web itself decided to nod at me this afternoon. At exactly 3:33, my lock screen lit up. Screenshot included.

Not a bad tradeoff.