Hospital Elevators Are Evil

Mike and I were talking...

there are just certain things you learn 

after being in the hospital

so many times

(seven in less than one year, to be exact).

You will have to answer the same half-hour segment

of questions each time you check-in,

regardless if you were just there two weeks ago or

9 months ago.

 If you bring your own comfy quilt and feather pillows from home

so you can sleep better,

it won't negate the Grand Central Station

party theme going on in your room all night.

If you spill your purse contents all over the floor

in the elevator 

on the tenth floor,

there are strong odds that you will

retrieve everything except the most 

important thing that fell out of your purse.

And if they ever do find it at the bottom

of the elevator shaft,

it probably won't be recognizable.

When you ask your husband not to be mad at you

when you tell him what just went down the elevator shaft

from the tenth floor,

cry first.

It helps.

 If you visit the late night grill often enough,

you can learn to like new things,

like low-sodium V8 juice.

If you're normally a nice, calm guy,

who just is ready to leave the hospital and

go back home,

 and yet another new doctor whom you've never met

comes in and asks "What's the plan?",

when you've been trying to get an answer to that question

for days,

your response to that question

just might warrant a visit from

the staff counselor,

who might not believe that you're normally

a really calm, laid-back man.

The best way to get a nurse to show up is

to wait until your favorite TV show,

that you've been waiting to watch all day,

begins.

 If you watch it, they will come.

When you are ready to check out,

just go ahead and get your street clothes on

and pretend that you will be leaving soon.

It won't help, really.

But you can pretend it will.

(In all seriousness, thank you to the wonderful 10th floor nurses

and their care this week.

You are appreciated!)