Down the Road a Piece: Surviving the hospital
You shouldn’t need to survive in a hospital. That’s where you go when you need some survival help. Supposedly.
Our local hospital is a good one, that is, it’s small and you get some attention. Too much, maybe.
They wake you every four hours or so to see if you’re sleeping … alive and sleeping. The problem is the first one comes in at 5:30 a.m. to draw blood. That will make sure you’re alive.
Or make you wish you weren’t. They have all day to draw blood. Why 5:30 a.m.?
Generally, someone came in every four hours or so and took all my “vital signs” each time. They all poked and prodded me and checked with their instruments to see that I was alive.
Once each afternoon, someone would go with me while I walked a couple of hundred yards, more or less.
One person came in and did a Goold Assessment. They didn’t tell me they were doing that, and I had told a doctor I didn’t want such a test. In my opinion, that person or that doctor was dishonest. I believe it was to see if I was nuts or not … pretty sure “not.” Pretty sure.
One interesting activity each day was watching workers on a roof outside my window. They went up and down a ladder and were putting shingles on another roof. They all made it a point not to look into my window, but I made it a point to watch them.
That was better than daytime TV. I found watching those workers was much more entertaining than boring myself with daytime TV. (I have tried daytime TV since I’ve been home, and it’s just as boring.)
The staff had me sit in a chair before and after meals. They told me that activity was good for me, better than lying in bed. I have to say, though, that bed was much more comfortable.
I was in the hospital last fall also to have the other hip replaced. That same surgeon was great. There was never any pain from either surgery. During that first stay, I was in a room at the other end of the long hallway. From there, the activity was much more entertaining, including the night someone tried to “escape” via a door from a nearby dayroom. Other noises were also as entertaining in that room.
The TVs are designed to hear from a handset that was with me on the bed. I also used that to call someone if I wanted to get out of bed for any reason; that was a rule. I could still hear TVs from other rooms, but I learned to sleep those four hours between interruptions. And call to get out of bed to use the little room attached to it with a hole in the seat.
I left under strange circumstances. The staff wheeled me, bed and all, to another room, where my wife came to visit. After about a half hour, we learned I was going home. Good thing she came that day. The going-home-thing was a total surprise, which I’m glad happened. And it’s a fairly long walk home.
At home, I lay around a lot, bang away a little on ye olde computer, and take walks. I can take pretty good walks now, by myself.
I also do some “stuff” on the computer gadget for the Maine Appalachian Trail Club, which keeps me in contact with that bunch and with hikers asking questions.
I still lie on the sofa and take walks. We’re planning a few outings once I am able to be up and about better, such as to the Old Fort Western in Augusta and eventually walks in the woods.
Love those woods! Can’t wait to get back to them.
Milt Gross can be reached for corrections, harassment, or other purposes at lesstraveledway@roadrunner.com.
