I Hate Hospitals
I hate everything about visiting a loved one in the hospital.
From trying to park the car...to the 80-year-old woman at the information desk...to the scent of the place...to the hurried nurses...to the small chairs...to the cramped rooms...to the buzzing...and the beeps...to Ellen on the televisions in each and every room...and most of all...
To seeing someone you love laying in that bed.
I visited the hospital today and all of the trips to all of the hospitals, through the years, came rushing back.
And while this trip to the hospital isn't in a life-threatening situation...
...it is still disconcerting.
While I was roaming the halls trying to find the room, I read all the notices posted on the walls.
There is a great effort to control the germs.
To stop the infection.
To make every single person comfortable.
I sat at the bedside with one thought just plain screaming in my head.
Get out!
Of course, I was sitting in the chair watching my beautiful wife run around the room.
She has a lot of information now.
She speaks the lingo with the nurses and the residents.
She knows what must be avoided for all patients.
She knows what the freaking beeps mean.
She understands why the poor nurses are running around, missing their lunches, aching for a break.
I honestly don't know how any of them do it on a day-to-day basis.
As i hit the front door and made my way back out into the bright sunshine of the day, I took a deep breath.
There was an elderly man trying to negotiate the ramp in his wheelchair. His daughter was beside him.
"I hate this fucking place," the old man growled.
"Me too," I whispered.
Me too.
From trying to park the car...to the 80-year-old woman at the information desk...to the scent of the place...to the hurried nurses...to the small chairs...to the cramped rooms...to the buzzing...and the beeps...to Ellen on the televisions in each and every room...and most of all...
To seeing someone you love laying in that bed.
I visited the hospital today and all of the trips to all of the hospitals, through the years, came rushing back.
And while this trip to the hospital isn't in a life-threatening situation...
...it is still disconcerting.
While I was roaming the halls trying to find the room, I read all the notices posted on the walls.
There is a great effort to control the germs.
To stop the infection.
To make every single person comfortable.
I sat at the bedside with one thought just plain screaming in my head.
Get out!
Of course, I was sitting in the chair watching my beautiful wife run around the room.
She has a lot of information now.
She speaks the lingo with the nurses and the residents.
She knows what must be avoided for all patients.
She knows what the freaking beeps mean.
She understands why the poor nurses are running around, missing their lunches, aching for a break.
I honestly don't know how any of them do it on a day-to-day basis.
As i hit the front door and made my way back out into the bright sunshine of the day, I took a deep breath.
There was an elderly man trying to negotiate the ramp in his wheelchair. His daughter was beside him.
"I hate this fucking place," the old man growled.
"Me too," I whispered.
Me too.
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