MY HOSPITAL ROOMIE---PART 1

Here's today's update: I am still among the living. Everyone keeps telling me I look terrible. I am keeping my head up anyway. Although, I did rip up the Miss America application. I guess pale, weak and married just won’t do for this year. I promised to tell the roommate story and….I must oblige. So for those of you not interested in reading, skip on by this blog. And for those brave few who are willing to perservere—-better grab a bottle of visine to keep your eyes moist. I have a problem being concise at times....but I bet you've noticed that already! HA! This is truly a funny story, at least to me. I did try to break it up over 3 seperate posts......to help with the red eyes! So, on with it.........

• Let me begin by trying to express to you how much I love a cold room. It doesn’t matter what season. So, yes, even in the dead of winter, although if we are being real, Alabama winters aren’t like Canada or anything, but I still like it cool in my personal space….be it the car, the house, or as this case may be...the hospital. Although my dear mother signed me up for an ALL INCLUSIVE PRIVATE SUITE for my “vacation”—-the hospital staff had other ideas. And I was wheeled into a semi-private room. No, biggie. I was hardly concerned with such matters, as at the time, my kidneys felt like Mike Tyson was using them for punching bags (hey, at least he wasn’t biting my ear.) Luckily, the semi-private was actually private because the only patient assigned to the room was me, myself and I.

I have to admit, that first night I wouldn’t have cared if they had a FRAT party in my room. Well, maybe….on second thought, I would. I didn’t exactly bring my party clothes. But, oh how I love a good cover band. The Velcro Pygmies and Mel & the Party Hats were my absolute faves at AU!! Anyway, I still had a good little eternal flame going inside my body, due to the infection and all, and I told my nurse I was hot. She asked if I wanted her to turn the air down a little—I said that would be great so she cut it from like 73 to 70. Upon one of my many trips to the ol’ urine bucket, I sneaked behind the gold privacy curtain, where I saw the lovely nurse stick her arm before, and found the thermostat, and chucked her on down to 66. I told you, I like it cold. Now, let me just stop here and say that Temple NEVER lets me turn it down to 66 at home. I’ve snuck in a 68 or so before, but they all start whining about the icicles hanging from their noses, and I give in. Plus, he says it has something to due with the power bill, something about money, but I forget, cold air doesn’t grow on trees or whatever.

• Mom was all bundled up in her turtleneck sweater and jacket. Temple comes rolling in from Georgia to see about me. His first time to see me since being admitted to the hospital. He’s there for about 5 minutes when he makes a comment about it being cold in the room. I just buzz the nurse for more morphine and then bask in the glory of the fact that in the hospital, cold air does grow on trees and there isn’t a thing he can say about it. Blue Cross/Blue Shield can take it up with me if they want, but the room is staying to my liking. Period.
  
  

Tuesday rolls around and the fever within is still kicking my butt, regardless if it was or wasn’t, I would still keep the room on 66. So, every single nurse, or care assistant, or visitor I had, walked in and all shared the same reaction. Wow, it’s chilly in here. Yep. That’s how I roll. Cool. I offered on numerous occasions to turn the flame thrower on for the folks, but they all were sweet and obliged the patient. "No, no, it needs to be how you like it. However you can rest best, that's what we want." So, the guage stayed on 66, and I kept Alabama Power in business for one more night. Then the bottom fell out.

• On Wednesday, I received a roommate. A woman with loads of family. I mean just crowds of them. At one time, there were 9 folks on the other side of her gold privacy curtain. Nine. Oh, and that didn’t include her. They were nice enough to come and go, walking back and forth in front of my bed in groups of 3-4. Staying about 30 minutes and then the next round of family would wander in to sit a spell. Sons, daughters, sisters, grandkids, nephews, etc.etc.etc. Back and forth. Back and forth. All morning and afternoon. And guess what. They liked to watch soap operas. Yippee. I was just so totally excited. They obviously wanted me to watch with them because they had the volume control on that hospital bed turned as high as it would go. There's a reason the hospital has the volume on the buzzer attached to the hospital bed. It's for the patient's use. It's close to our head and we don't really need it loud. It is not meant to accomodate an entire family of "As The World Turns" fans. Do you know how many soap operas come on between the hours of 10 am and 3 pm. Five. To be exact. And they watched them all. Until the weather man cut in---thank the Lord for James Spann giving us thunderstorm updates.

Now, look, I'm not judging. I was a fan of Days of Our Lives myself, back in the day. I lived and breathed for noon to come, and the hourglass to appear on NBC, followed with the storylines of every character in that quaint town of Salem. "Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives".....Oh, I followed Patch and Kayla right along with everyone else in 1990. And Bo and Hope. My favorite couple. Wasn't she so pretty? But that was back in the day. Back before I realized that although life often feels like a soap opera.....it really never turns out like they do on the telly. How many lives can you have? How many times can your business go bankrupt? How often can you kiss your mistress in the pub around the corner before someone you know sees you and squeals? What? You think I'm exaggertaing? Here's a direct quote from one of the actors----

• In 2006, when asked about his character, Jack Deveraux, "coming back from the dead" — for the third time — actor Matthew Ashford responded, "It is hard to play that because at a certain point it becomes too unreal...actors look at that and think, 'What is this — the Cartoon Network'?"

See, told you so. Even the cast thinks it's a bunch of hogwash, eventually. Of course, who knows, he was probably sour because, yes for the third time, he would actually turn out dead, and thus be cut from the paycheck department. Bitterness knows no bounds.

• So, I curled up in a ball and tried to think happy thoughts..........