Mathy and the Hospital Stay

 Yeah, I kinda knew what was happening, I’d be stupid not to. Before I lighten things up, let’s get the heavy stuff over and done with.

Telling my kids was hard, but I raised some tough kids. I told them before I went to the doctor and told them every step and hour, I was there. My daughters were with me. My sons wanted to be, but I wanted it to be a girl thing.  What was harder? Making phone calls after I got out of the hospital. Calling one of my best friends of over 50 years, hearing her silence. Calling my friend who just kicked cancer’s ass and hearing him. My friend John I just felt how broken he was feeling. My baby brother, my siblings. That was hard because I knew what I was telling them would hurt and I hate hurting people.

Okay, heavy stuff done.

So, okay, women’s hospital. Someone needs to tell me why all the women that work at the Women’s hospital are so nice  and the men seem so … I don’t know distant. Their bedside manner, while good was not as warm and fuzzy as the women I encountered.

At the ER they put me through a battery of testing and scans. Oh by the way I was in Hypertension crisis, but that stopped almost immediately. That was nervousness.

I had prepared, I knew I was getting admitted and I packed a bag. My girls went to the car to get it while I was waiting to be brought to the room and then they went up. I got a text from my daughter.

‘Oh Mommy, they gave you a suite!’

Seriously? I have piss poor insurance, how did I get a suite. Maybe someone was a fan … nah.

Room was huge when I got there (See pic).

It wasn’t a suite. It was a bariatric room. A room designed for very large people. I weighed in at 121 at the hospital.

I felt like Goldie Locks. The bed was huge and the chairs wide. The toilet? We won’t talk about how big that was. I nearly fell through. What the hell. Maybe I didn’t weight 121.

Again, Goldie Locks. The bed wasn’t an option. It was too big and squishy so I opted for the chair and I put pillows in it.

Whenever the doctor came in, he was like, “Where’s the patient?” I had to raise my hand for him to see me in the chair.

We had great conversations. We talked about me being a writer. He, like many people had this look of ‘everyone’s a writer’ sort of thing.

I had a heart monitor, oxy pulse, BP cuff, I couldn’t move and finally I was like, “Look, Dude, can you take this off, I’m fine.”

He was cute. Could have been my son so I will refrain from calling him hot.

He looked at the readings and said, “Yeah, I’m confident you’re not gonna go into heart failure in the middle of the night. Let’s take all that off.”

Freedom.

They were never able to find me after that.

My tablet wouldn’t connect, I was stuck either watching TV or wandering, so I wandered.

I met the woman across the hall in the other bariatric room. I’ll call her Mathy but that’s not her name, it sounds like it.

She barely fit in that bed and I felt sorry for her. I asked her if there was anything she needed. She said she saw my daughters bringing me pizza and asked if I had any left. Of course, so I gave it to her.

Later that night the nurse said, “Please don’t feed Mathy’.

I asked if that was the same as ‘Please don’t feed the bears.’

She replied, “Yes, she is not very nice.’

We’re not giving her treats because she’s not nice or health reasons?

It wasn’t health reasons. My attitude was like if maybe we’re nice to her she’ll be nice to others. I don’t know why she was in that room, I never asked, but it was the breast cancer floor.

I met others while there, and I realized no one had my attitude. I wanted to help, to maybe let my attitude be contagious. Smile at them. But attitudes aren’t contagious, they can only come from within.

My oncologist searched fifteen minutes for me only to find that I was at the duck pond. I apologized and she said, “Don’t. It makes me happy that I had to look for you.”

That is where I am at.

After my biopsies, attractive doc was in my room. He said, “I’d like to keep you another day or two and do another scan.”

I asked, “Is that going to help me?”

“No, it helps me.”

“Sorry I don’t care about that. I care about my mental well being. I’ll do outpatient.”

And then he said, “Fine, I’ll send you home.”

But before he released me he told me that he and a collogue were looking at my webpage and were thoroughly impressed and talking about which books of mine they wanted to read.

Wanna know why that’s cool? If they read my work, they’ll know me better. A part of me feels if thery know me, they'll work harder.

Until tomorrow …

 

FEELING TODAY: Strong and Witty, needing Frank.

MUSIC: God can use a Broken Man by Jason Crabb

GOAL: Clean out my freezer for the meal prep my sister and brother did. (DONE)