How does anyone recover in a hospital? The staff’s care and devotion is fabulous, but the environment is inhospitable. It’s impossible to sleep. There are constant interruptions, and nothing ever happens as planned. Finally admitted, I settled into my hospital bed, rolled over and set off the bed alarm, , , a disquieting omen.
Sleep is constantly interrupted by aides taking your vitals, nurses administering medicines and drawing blood, alarms sounding, doctors making rounds, staff discussions in the hallway, and being shuffled to various tests. Intravenous (IV) and nutrition pumps were sensitive and alarmed frequently.
Neurology patients are quizzed every two hours. Questions included
Where are you?
What day of the week is it?
What month is it?
What season is it?
Who is president?
These quizzes seemed ridiculous since I have neuromuscular issues. I was tempted to answer incorrectly to see the nurses’ reaction but feared it would trigger more tests.
Then there are roommates. It’s absurd for two people with serious medical issues to share such a small space. Between the equipment, visitors, and differing physical needs, not to mention the lack of privacy, I wonder why anyone thinks shared rooms are acceptable.
Although I shared similar needs to my roommates, differing personalities, habits, and daily schedules steal your peace. I thought it tough when my first roommate snored loudly (I am guilty of this myself) and blasted the TV volume. It got worse. Other roommates yelled when they felt their medical needs were neglected. One night, three nurses brought me ear plugs unprompted.
I don’t blame the roommates. I just wish I did not have to be a participant in their medical journey as I could barely deal with mine.
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