Well, after five and a half days in the hospital, I am home now. I plan to post a big ol detailed post about the ordeal of the last week, but here is something I wrote on the laptop whilst confined.
Things That Suck about being in the Hospital
By Marsha Kysor Sray
So being here in the hospital watching paint dry has afforded me nothing but opportunities to appreciate the sheer suckage of my situation. Cancelled plans and missed auditions and all that aside, I am compiling a running list of all the reasons this sucks ass. Would you like to hear them? OK!
1. How many times do I have to answer, in front of god and everybody, questions about going to the bathroom? I swear I have answered questions beyond what you’d expect about frequency, cut, color and clarity and now they want to know if anything jumps up and sings happy birthday before I send it on its cyclonic adventure into pipeland. All I’m saying is it came from me; there’s three part harmony, sequined costumes and an oompa band. Anything else you want to know?
2. Mices, meeses that don’t work on borrowed laptops. While truly grateful for the loan of the refrigerator, I mean laptop, (seriously, the weight of this thing is ass-tounding) the mouse function on this thing leaves much to be desired. Translation: the cursor is effen crazy! The cursor arrow travels around the screen at a frenetic pace, lodging itself finally and immovably in the top right hand corner, precariously perched over the X button on this document. How can I compose brilliant healthcare satire while the Mouse of Damocles is hovering over the damned delete button? I understand working under pressure, but this is ridiculous! Any moment the mouse could click itself, cause it likes to do that, (everyone does), and my document could close with potentially unsaved, award winning work. Grrr!
3. For Christy’s sake the beeping! Trying to sleep around here is impossible. Everything beeps. The IV pole, the nurse call light, the blood pressure machines. Those are my favorite. When they come in to take your vitals at four in the morning this thing sings to you. Doot do-do doo, it sings as she turns it on. Do-do doooot, as your vitals come up. Doot- doooo, in protest as she takes the pulse-ox off your finger. Doot-dooo all the way out the door. Number five is alive, my friends and he’s keeping me agoddamwake all night long.
4. Winning the ‘It sucks to be me’ competition on your hall. Up and down the hall the patients square off eyeing each other, measuring the extent of each others ailments. I am not totally sure that I win, but with my bald head added to the left side of my face being the size of a softball with a target bulls eye nasty-assed red boil in the center of it, it is quite clear to everyone who glances my way that it definitely sucks to be cancer girl with a toxic pimple. Heh, shall I crown myself once again? I still have plenty of ribbon, I just need more stickers for the Miss Toxic Pimple sash. Pictures wouldn’t be as pretty, I’m sure.
5. (To the tune of Hallelujah) The foood is salty, fooood is salty, food-is-salty, food-is-salty, the food is salty!
6. No hot water in my room for two days. Nothing cleverly funny about this one. Come on guys, cut a girl a break. I at least deserve a nice hot steamy shower.
7. The TV remote control. The clever people that brought you the four a.m. vital signs are the geniuses behind the ninety-nine click button. It resides conveniently on your bedrail with the call button and the bed controls. It cleverly controls the tv with one button. Just one. The first click turns on the tv. Subsequent clicks turn the channels, but only one way, you can’t go back, just forward. It is nice that there are a full range of basic cable channels numbers 2 thru 99, but if you were watching channel three and want to see what is on channel four then decide you really do want to watch channel three you have to click the effen button 97 more times to get back to channel three. Actually make that 98 clicks because there is a free click between channel 99 and channel 2. This is the click that turns the tv off. That is right, if you are done watching channel 3 for the night you have to click the button those 98 more clicks to turn the fucker off. Sigh. Can’t get any exercise around here but my index finger is getting a workout.
Just to be fair, here are a few things that don’t suck:
1. I am so fricken happy that I had Lasik surgery this summer before I got sick. Particularly now that I am hospitalized with this toxic pimple on my face. With the amazing swelling of the left side of my face, including my eye, I would not have been able to wear my contacts. And putting a pair of glasses on over the swelling to rest so very close to the very heart of the raging bacterial beast on my cheek would have been damned near impossible too. Holy shit this would suck so much more with my coke-bottle vision of prior to July. Yay for Lasik!
2. My Mom. Having your own private RN staying in the room with you is a mandatory luxury. This woman never clocks out. My IV beeps, she's up from the bed checking it, changing fluids, and basically acting as my nurse even though she could probably get in trouble. None of my actual nurses complained and most were openly grateful for her taking my load off of them. Plus I got more sleep and got everything I needed in a much more timely manner. Thanks Mom.
3. Being so tired delirium sets in and provided unexpected fun. For example it was five a.m. a couple of mornings ago when it became clear from the constant nurse, tech and phlebotomist visits, we would not be sleeping anymore and we decided to give in and get up. Mom turned on some dim lighting and sat up in her bed to read her Time magazine. We were exhausted and the room was quiet except for the sound of her flipping pages. Into the silence, her high pitched voice rang out, "Why can't they leave poor King Tut alone?" May not seem like it to you, but this was the funniest damned random comment I have ever heard. We laughed so hard I literally pissed myself and she just kept going. "Says here they exposed his face after 85 years. They've been poking at the poor kid for 85 years. Why can't they leave him the hell alone?" Ah, delirium makes such good comedy.