Spent July 4th in the hospital

[hyphenate]

Starting on the 3rd, had pain in my chest. It was, however, on the right side, just above my breast. It didn't go away after I had taken a couple of alka-seltzers, so I was beginning to worry a bit.

They kept me for observation since I have had a history of heart problems (including 2 MIs in 1999 and 3 angioplasties) and ran almost every possible test. Thankfully, all were negative, and the consensus was that it was my GERD acting up.

I'll tell ya, I hate hospitals. I only stayed because I was a little worried, but heart attacks and disease aside, I don't know how my dear friend Marje could have stood it before she died--one hospital stretch for her was over 2 months long.

I swear, you take out of the hospital as many germs as you bring into it. And such things as pneumonia can be easily transmitted inside that it's a wonder more people don't die after being exposed to the germs there.

No, I'm not talking about the employees there--most of them are as responsible as they can possibly be. It's just the whole atmosphere. I once heard a comic say something about not wanting to go to a hospital because there are sick people there, and I emphatically agree!

I don't suppose there is any way to prevent someone from getting sick who has a weak immune system, but I am sure that there are enough experts who can mull that over and come up with some possible solutions.

Anyhow, I was happy to get out, and get home to my furkits, who were out of water and dying for a drink. I was disappointed Thursday night, though, when I was discharged, and no one picked me up from my room with a wheelchair and I had to walk from my room to the place where my friend was picking me up--as it is, I now have a lot of trouble walking and use a cane. It took me a good twenty minutes to get where I needed to get to, and my legs were in agony and I needed to sit down really badly.

All in all, a surreal event, and one I would really like not to repeat.

[SCRUBDASHRUB]

1. I'm glad you're OK. :)

[murielm99]

2. I am glad you are okay.

Your poor furkits!

Once when I was in the hospital, I complained about how cold it was. A nurse told me that they keep it a bit cold to discourage the growth of germs. Also, this particular hospital had some way to exchange the air every few hours. I don't remember how they did it. I think they try to do what they can to keep people from getting any sicker than they are.

Take care of yourself. And try to find an emergency furkit babysitter.

[Warpy]

3. Next time, tell them you need a ride

You might have to wait a little longer, but you'll get one.

The good news is that thanks to insurance company greed, hospital stays have been pared down to the bare minimum. In most cases, this is a good thing and the only favor greed has done us. I've seen far fewer postop infections since post surgical confinement has been minimized.

Then again, convalescence at home can be rough for those of us who live alone or for women with young children who don't understand why Mama has to spend time in bed and can't pick them up when they get a boo boo.

Still, it sounds like you needed a ride. Next time, tell them.

[hyphenate]

4. Yeah

I was ready to say something, but I decided discretion was the better part....

I, too, live alone, and it gets very frustrating. I remember some years back after one of my heart attacks that the nurse wanted to know who was going to take care of me when I got home. I simply told her there WAS no one to take care of me, and that, as usual (which is still the case) I would likely not see too many people who gave enough of a crap about me to help me out.

Strangely, not even one of my family members came to see me in the hospital that time around--at all. If anyone ever wanted to know what it's like to have no one be there for them, I could give them a detailed account of my own story. I know it's gotten to that point for a lot of people--I know I'm not alone, but sometimes it does hurt a lot to deal with cold, hard reality. It's worse than being ill, sometimes, because it leaves a void inside that takes a much longer time to heal.

The last time I was in the hospital in L.A., I checked myself out. I was feeling particularly hostile against them, and knew only that the doctor they gave me was a prick. If it weren't for the IV line, I would have gathered my stuff and walked out right away, but I had to insist on a proper discharge, even though they recorded that it was against doctor's wishes. It was one of those really memorable times, though--I've always believed (not in a religious way, but in a philosophical way) that whatever you're doing New Year's Eve is an indication of what you will be doing for the rest of the new year; it was NYE, and I was determined not to be spending it in the hospital feeling sorry for myself, but spending it with the furbabies and in my own apartment. That alone was reason enough to make me want to get the fuck out of there.

Strange how our birthdays and holidays elicit such a greater reaction than any other time--we live symbolically from one holiday to another without taking into consideration all the days inbetween. It's one of the reasons we fly through a year and not take notice of all that is going on around us and learn to appreciate everything along the journey.