Nine More Days

Well, it's confirmed. I will be in hospital until at least November 25. The intent is to keep me on IV antibiotics as well as keeping a Foley catheter inserted in me until at least sometime next week. It means continuing to deal with being stuck in bed, although I hope to change that today. I have my manual chair here, so at least I can get out for a coffee in the Good Earth cafe downstairs. It means having to poop in a diaper, since they can't figure out how to transfer me to the toilet safely, and it's a lot less work for the nurses to clean me up rather than to transfer me back and forth.

All in all, hospital time is tedious. Hours and hours of nothing but interruption. I need help turning over in the hospital bed; this bed is not wide enough for me to roll over. They put meals in front of me which I can barely tolerate; non-existent breakfast, mediocre lunch with dry sandwiches, and dinners which defy description at times. To be a food lover while in hospital is a terrible kind of torture.

I think the toughest thing is feeling trapped, both physcially and psychically. While I have my wheelchair here, there is no chance for me to go anywere but down the hospital hallways, past rooms of patients equally as trapped as I am. From my bed I cannot see a window, see outside. The curtain separating me from the second bed in my room blocks the window.

Speaking of second beds, there is an elderly woman in the other bed in this two bed room, laughingly called semi-private. There is nothing private, even semi-private about this or virtually any other hospital room, unless you are one of the rich and powerful. For them, they have single rooms with private, attached bathrooms. The elderly woman on the other side of the curtain doesn't care. She has had a serious stroke, potentially and likely fatal. Her family is constantly coming and going, as they should, getting that one last visit in with mother or grandmother as it may be.

In another 9 days I will return home, to whatever state it may be in. I left it in a mess, thanks to ambulance crews and a lack of planning. But then again, these kinds of hospital trips are not often planned. No matter. Home Care will come and tidy up. I can do laundry. The fridge will have to be emptied, spoiled food thrown out. I'll be busy when I get home. That's something to look forward to.