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Funny how all can change in a sudden, in a phone call, from wondering how best to scam post-dinner port to a rush of concern over fractured 90 year old hips.

So here we sit in the darkened room, listening to the infrequent snores of the 1916 explosion survivor, looking at my name above him on the wall, smiling inwardly at his incorrigible flirtation with the nurses and the undying devotions he exchanges with grandmom as always as she steps out for a few hours rest. Then the silence of the oxygen mask flow.

And so the first hours in some time roaming the lonely hospital hallways. "Put a sweater on me," repeats the voice of unreason that floats on. What else to conclude amidst such vulnerabilities but that we are a ridiculous species.

Long night ahead. Just lie still and think of fly-fishing on the margueree, grandad. It was just over a year ago I walked through the same emerg - then with a busted nose on the first night back. Quite the bookend to the articling year. And it goes on.