Wednesday, February 19, 2003

I'm getting really, really tired of making multiple trips to the hospital, as well as dealing with a barrage of phone calls between here and there. I really miss the days when they admitted you to a hospital the afternoon before surgery, did all the medical tests and interviews at once, and then gave you a nice sleeping pill so that you could get some rest that night. Every time I manage to put out of my mind the fact that I'm getting several organs downsized simultaneously during the first week in March, someone is calling me with the same stupid questions over and over (no, I haven't become diabetic, started smoking, or changed my marital status since my previous admission on January 30) in the same tone of voice usually reserved for a five-year-old who keeps bringing finger paints into the living room. Given my general loathing of being a patient (deep in my psyche, even the best and most compassionate medical care seems simply a milder form of abuse than less compassionate medical care), it's a minor miracle that the phone hasn't hit the wall with great force at least once.

On the brighter side: Every room in that hospital is now a private room, which is a vast improvement over any other arrangement I can imagine. The last time I was an inpatient there, six years ago, I had a roommate who kept surreptitiously injuring herself in order to stay in the hospital; the single night of my stay there was a Thursday, and this unfortunate pain addict insisted on watching "ER". (Yup, just what I needed after major surgery; overhead, a TV blaring an hour of simulated sick and injured people being stuck with simulated needles and subjected to simulated surgical procedures. Nothing like escapism to cheer up someone who's feeling a bit low.) I personally hope she's found some relief from her disease since, but there's a part of me that would gladly let her stand in for me and have my hysterectomy in my stead if it would make her feel better.

Yeah, this sucks, but I suppose I'd rather have endometriosis than Munchausen's syndrome. Then again, if I had Munchausen's syndrome, I'd probably be utterly delighted to have developed something as tangible as endometriosis.

Now as before: It could be worse ....


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