A hospital is a hotel for broken bodies, I’m discovering.
When you check in, you leave your attitudes and anxieties outside and forget about your worries and embarrassments! Toss out modesty, too~
And oh, no underwear allowed, too.
I’ve been in Queen’s Medical Center for a week, not by choice but necessity, and I’m blessed with having a team of 10 or so doctors monitoring my situation, with supported by a very devoted and helpful staff of nurses.
I was broken, and needed fixing.
The day I was wheeled in via an ER ambulance on Aug. 11, I didn’t realize the cause or seriousness of the health; the doctors helped solve the mystery through X-Rays and Cat scans. The problem:
I developed abscesses in my liver and gall bladder and the treatment included draining both gooey messes. Now, when I go home, I will still have drains next to my right rib cage. Surgery to remove the ball bladder might be an option, but will have to wait.
Patience and perseverance will be required, since treatment and healing have to best buddies to resolve this problem.
A hospital also is like an opera and a drama. There’s a lot or orchestrated treatments and roles, with blood drawn and tested, and a chorus of liquid drips, including antibiotics.
The roles are plentiful and varied, most performed by a corps of nurses, both male and female, who arouse you in the wee hours to dispense your meds, or bring you extra blankets amid frigid nocturnal corridors.
In theatrical terms, they are dressed in chic work uniforms in stunning hues, from black to baby blue, from purple to dark green, from hot pink to olive green, and more.
Last night, the hospital’s fire alarm screamed for an hour and 10 minutes, the second day for this fire drill faux pas to happen. Life moved on like nothing happened.
There was a fella down the hall, I could only hear, not see. Mostly during the evenings, he would moan a mantra probably only he could understand.
There are many house rules; you don’t get to decide what you’ll wear, so yep, the noble hospital gown, with backside open to show your derriere, is the only garment you wear. So you get used to it.
if you cannot walk normally, buzz for your needs. In my case, a therapist on my team mandates I use the walker to go to the bathroom, or move from bed to a chair for meals. I cannot eat meals in bed; the logic being, I need to regain my awareness of the need to re-evaluate my life at home.
On several mornings, he’d visit the room and we’d walk the walk in the corridors together, engraining in my mind how to properly navigate with the walker. The secret: with arms on both sides of the device, your legs and body must be close to the front of the walker, the best way to avoid a fall. He asked how many shows I saw in New York, and he couldn’t believe it.
My doctors clearly have bright minds and know how to put the puzzle together. You know the old adage but not being to read a legible doctor’s prescription? Kinda true; there’s a daily chalk board of sort lists the daily nurses attending to me; the docs scribble instructions in shorthand, I can’t fathom what’s what.
OK, this is a revelation. The hospital has no shower in the rooms, so nurses wipe you down, with brisk moves like they’re washing a car, from top to down there. I cringed a bit, the first I had this bath. Now, it’s part of my daily routine.
I’ve eaten more heart-healthy meals since becoming a patient. You can order breakfast for lunch or vice versa, but I highly recommend the Angus on a bun with lettuce and cheese, the chicken jook, the chicken salad sandwich, and the roast park. Fruit faves: watermelon and pineapple, and have not yet a veggie salad I like. Forget the bagel, bad! The waffles can be had with low-cal syrup, and the wedge of haupia is ono. But skip the so-called ice cream; like bad ice cakes on a stick, but an assortment jello and puddings fulfill a sweet tooth. You order in advance, but even with a late, you’ll get it anytime.
So an update; I’ve not crossed that bump in the read yet, so I’ll likely be bedding here for another two daysl Around here, you take one step at a time, one day at a time. There can’t be a tomorrow if there’s no today or yesterday. Every day matters…