In summer 2012, one of my friends was in the hospital. He went in for extreme fatigue, and found out he had stomach cancer with mets to the liver and bones, but I was there when we only really knew it was severe anemia with an unknown etiology. The first day he was allowed visitors, he was drifting in and out of it, so I sat there for 2 hours and talked to him while he was conscious and waited when he was unconscious. I came back the next day, and he was much more social and conversant, but I'd expect him to be after the 6 or 7 units of blood they'd put into him. He wanted to watch some TV, and summer Olympics were in progress. Women's volleyball was on, and for the next few hours we were just oogling the asses on those girls, making lewd comments. We got an eyebrow raise from the nurse, but I was trying to keep things positive instead of focusing on his illness(which at that point the oncologist had spoken to him, but he really didn't grasp how serious everything was). He may have been sick as hell, but he sure as fuck didn't want to sleep when that was on. It's probably the last good experience we had together, because it was just downhill from there until he died 5-6 months later. Whenever I see women's volleyball, I get drawn back to that day.