If you know me well, you know that it's an indisputable fact that I could not, in any way, be a doctor. I cringe when I see people get hurt, I don't do well with blood, I can't watch someone getting a shot, and medical devices creep me out. Even if it's small little cuts, I cringe. When Laurelei falls and scrapes her knee, I pick her up as quickly as I can . . . and run her straight inside to Patrice to fix the "boo-boo" while I keep my eyes closed or focused on the corner of the room.
That being the case, I really don't like hospitals. A hospital is essentially a museum of all the things that make me quiver. They're full of hurt people, needles, medical devices, IVs, and tubes. On top of that, I always get lost in hospitals. So not only am I surrounded by all these things I don't like, but they taunt me as I try to figure out which elevator takes me to the right wing.
Unfortunately, between Patrice and Laurelei, this is at least our fourth trip to the hospital and our third multiple night hospital stay in less than a year. Needless to say, we're getting pretty practiced.
So here are a couple thoughts about our stays in the hospital:
1. I eat like a king. The one good thing about being in the hospital is that everyone wants to bring you food. Everyone. If you wanted, you could easily eat four or five dinners. We don't, obviously . . . that would be ridiculous. But I do eat two. You see, I've never been the patient, it's always Patrice and Laurelei, both of whom hate hospital food, because, you know . . . they're normal human beings. I, on the other hand, for better or worse, have no standards when it comes to food quality. If food is on a plate, I will eat it. And I'm just as happy with hospital meatloaf as I am Bob Evans meatloaf. That means, not only does someone typically bring me carry-out for dinner, but I also get to eat the fantastic meatloaf and potatoes that makes Patrice want to not have a nose (ever notice how every plate brought by "nutrition" smells the same, no matter what they're serving?).
2. Hospital visitor chair beds. Not as comfortable as real beds.
3. Hospital patient beds. Way cooler features, but still not as comfortable as real beds.
4. Hospitals are like black holes. Seriously. The always reliable Wikipedia describes a black hole as "a region of space time from which nothing can escape." That pretty much sums it up. Think about it: you go to the doctor's office with a tiny little symptom. Maybe your stomach hurts, or you have a nagging headache, or your feeling lethargic, and before you know it you've just signed on for monitoring for the next 3 or 4 days of your life . . . and there's nothing you can do about it. While your in the hospital, you have no contact with the outside world. No windows, no fresh air, often no shower, and the most walking you get to do is to the bathroom and back. Granted, I usually get to run home for a shower and fresh clothes (and this trip to the hospital, I've been able to go to work, but I haven't done that the previous two times). It's like living in a cave. Time eludes you and you can easily begin to lose your sanity (as we know from the guy in the room next to ours during our second hospital stay . . . those screams still haunt me at night). The strangest thing is, when you leave four days later there's always a really weird feeling, like the world has just gone on the past four days without you. You walk back into the daylight and it feels like the world has changed in some small way, and you've missed it.
5. We couldn't do it without family and friends. I know we've said this in every post, but we are so blessed to have family and friends who are so willing to lend a hand and help out. Whether it's helping watch Laurelei, offering food, or even just good company or offered prayers, we never want to take for granted how great the people around us are.
What are your hospital observations and quirks?
-Matt
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