Shock room or what?

It’s just the two of us stuck in this limbo... me and one nurse who hasn't slept all night.
I’m doing all the talking, while she supposedly responds just with facial expressions?

Please, just give me some water... my sister keeps bringing me these soaked sponges to wipe my dry mouth... I see someone in white... a doctor? I keep asking for water again... just a spoonful...
- "Let her drink," they say... then she starts spraying water at me with some kind of misting bottle... I'm begging... can I please just have a plastic cup?

- Then the doctor goes, "Just let her drink as much as she needs!"
Finally, I get to drink some water like a normal human being! I think I finally managed to pass out after that... I woke up the next day, but I couldn't even tell what time it was.

But now comes the real headache: getting back home... My bed is waiting for me, but I'm not there yet!

So they're heading back in for more scans >

At this rate, they'll probably find a way to squeeze me in there too!

Honestly, I’m not feeling any better. My head is still pounding, and my left arm is just as useless as it was before.

They kept shuttling me around looking for an open bed... ended up getting dropped off in a Step 2 ICU this time.
I didn't even realize where I was until I arrived, just listening to my son's voice in the car on the way there...

"We're here!"

I managed to peek over the side of the bed... and saw them both standing there. They wheeled me right into the room. I have no clue how much time passed, all I can see through the glass of the unit is my son waving at me.

It only clicked later... they had to head out, and it was already late afternoon.

I am totally helpless here... and naked... barely even covered up. I’m just looking for at least the top half of my pajamas... there is NO WAY I can be in the ICU like this.

I'm feeling a bit chilly, and then I look over and see my "neighbor" right next to me in their pajamas. I'll ask them again... they claim they "have no idea" where everything went after they stripped away my last shred of privacy before the procedure.

This neighbor seems pretty happy with me. Honestly, I have no clue why. I guess I'll find out in the next few days.

She’s way younger than me... and she’s already settled into this room... There are about seven beds here. One... at the far end, there's this young addict from California who was literally pulled back from the brink of death...
My neighbor keeps feeding me updates. Meanwhile, I'm trying to comfort her by telling her about my contrast CT scan... but she’s insisting on getting an MRI first... magnetic resonance! She's totally panicking... it's pointless... my niece went through an MRI almost like it was nothing!

It's a much more precise method than mine! And then it hits me. My wife already had one "standard" CT and they actually found a ruptured vessel in her brain, so now they probably need to get a clearer picture... the woman is young, just a year younger than my son...

She goes in tomorrow... for the MRI... and we've been leaning on each other all night and through the next morning.

I was exhausted and crashed out, while she was happy just because she warned me how loud she snores.
The nurses wake us up early in the morning. Vitals... blood pressure and temperature checks... breakfast, and only then do we handle personal hygiene.

My neighbor is waiting for an open slot for a CT... and she keeps peeking behind the curtain at the other neighbor... A little while ago, they were changing the linens and "cleaning" our beds... except for me. I don't belong with them.

That neighbor on her other side... he finally calmed down... showing me his crossed hands... basically signaling he's "done," even though he's been complaining for half an hour...

The nurses changed the bed sheets again and she thought it was weird.... hm....

It wasn't until I got home that I saw the obituary in the paper.... 81 years old!

My neighbor finally heads off for her scan, looking forward to getting back into her bed and grabbing some lunch... yum!

But right before lunchtime (around noon), they whisk her away for the imaging, and before thirty minutes have even passed, they're dropping someone else into "her" bed... yet another super young woman... maybe just a tiny bit older this time.

So, I "corner" the guy on duty... the nurse... and beg him to make sure at least some soup is waiting for that first lady when she gets back. Naturally, he tells me... oh, her lunch will be waiting in the other room.

While we're at it, I ask him to take a look at my stuff. No biggie, right? He finds it immediately in a little black trash bag with my name on it... he even went into my first room to check "my" cabinet... so now I've got my things next to me, and hey, I've even got my pajamas on! Well, at least the top half.

Later on, another nurse had no "trouble" at all letting me ditch the catheter and serve the "princess." And by princess, I mean a toilet with a hole you sit over... which definitely isn't happening in the ICU... instead, it's just a bedpan shoved under your butt.
Mighty proud to say I actually managed to avoid "that" while stuck in bed!

Visiting hours are finally here... I can see my people, but they aren't allowed inside...

One of those nurses really pulled through... she wheeled my "princess" right to me and then gave me a nice little ride down the hall to where my folks are!

By the way, I only asked that nurse for her name... and talk about irony... apparently, they were working on the nursing schedules those days, and nobody wanted to pull a shift with this particular "sister" of mine... 😢

It’s middle of the week, visitors are coming and going, and honestly? Nobody even bothers to ask how I am or tell me anything...

Classic. "How are you doing?" Me: "Great! Still got this massive headache. When can I go home?"

"Soon. It’s just a little awkward since you don't really belong here!"
"I know, just send me home already."

Once the visitors left, I couldn't hold out much longer and had to beg my nurse to help me back to bed. I can move my body okay on my own... but when I finally got back... man, things were getting wild in this room...

Timothy (not his real name), this total junkie, is always pulling some stunt to keep the spotlight on him. He’s been on this ward for three months now, and last week his family came by, and he managed to trick everyone into NOT taking off his ventilator—even though he can breathe totally fine on his own. The nurses see right through him, but he manages to play the doctors, since they’re only in the room once in a while...

My "visitors" are done for now, but there are still some civilians hanging around that glass booth... I see this young girl with tears streaming down her face, looking over at my young "neighbor" to the left...

The bed to my right is empty... waiting for a patient from El Paso, and the weather outside is absolute trash. Everyone's wondering... if and when she'll actually make it here.

Dinner was wrapped up around 6 or 7 PM. I finally managed to chill out for a bit after taking my meds and drifted off.

Then boom—chaos. This patient from El Paso arrives... just another young woman. She's intubated and totally unconscious. Her attending physician is going on and on about how she traveled all the way from Savannah just to end up in this situation.

The doctors were hovering over her for ages... then she starts waking up... and of course, she's naked and freezing. They won't even give her clothes, they just drape a sheet over her.

The night shift nurse comes by to check on me, and first thing she does is INTRODUCE herself. I couldn't help but pipe up, pointing out that after ten days, she’s actually the second person to introduce themselves... plus, the first one was a woman, and it seems like every single doctor here is a guy. We all had a good laugh in the room—the nurses and a few patients too.

Anyway, apparently I'm still "the problem" because I don't technically belong in this ward... so during rounds tomorrow, they might decide I can finally head home!

All this madness happening between 10 PM and midnight! And get this: my neighbor on the left is gone!

Thursday is here... Rounds. Man, there are so many of them... Just a bunch of assistants hovering around the head professor. But the keyword is ABOLITION... that’s my "procedure."
It worked for them...

-Are you doing okay?
-Fantastic! When do I get to go home?
-Tomorrow or the day after.

Honestly, everything else is just not great... My head is still pounding, and my left arm is basically useless, but the "procedure" was a success, and the professor says they should add it to the official protocol!

The day is just dragging on. Waiting for "my" doctor to give me the final word. What is it called? Who knows!

Asked the lady from El Paso what size she wears. A 38. Perfect. Just my size. I promised her some pajamas... My folks brought me clean clothes, pajamas, and some reading material. They wheeled me out to the hallway again, but this time in a fancy wheelchair.

Around 6 PM, right before dinner... the nurses are doing their usual rounds. I pull the clean pajamas out of the bag and ask a nurse to pass them to the girl from El Paso!
NO need, we'll find her a hospital gown.
-Well, until you do... at least let her put the top on!

And wouldn't you know it, someone stepped up and brought the lady from El Paso a hospital gown immediately!

She was absolutely thrilled. She goes, "I feel like a real person again! And wow, you guys were so fast getting mine!"
- Oh, they didn't, they got mine... but I can still manage in this one today. I'm heading home tomorrow. It was pure luck we happen to be the same size...
I grabbed her husband's phone and promised I'd call him once I'm home.
She gives me the name and number and tells me to only talk to him—not the little one or her mom!

The night doctor finally gave me the heads-up! He heard from "my" attending, so I’m definitely heading home tomorrow.

Man, Friday was just brutal... and I told them that. But honestly? It felt like they couldn't care less what I had to say.

At least the guy on duty was decent enough to actually answer my questions... you know, about why I'm not feeling any better.

He said it's a gradual process... that I'll get switched over to different painkillers and that I'm even entitled to a home physical therapist. Apparently, the pills they're giving me here are heavy opioids... and people aren't exactly thrilled with those at the rehab centers.

I explained the whole thing to my son, too. It doesn't mean he can't go to the rehab facility... it just means he shouldn't expect miracles there.

Actually, while I've been staying here, a few patients have gone straight from the hospital to the rehab center.

So, getting back home was a total headache because I couldn't just jump straight from the ICU back to my regular floor... plus, there was the whole transport situation to figure out.

Once they realized I wasn't going to be difficult about the paperwork and didn't need their hospital shuttle, everything went super smooth and fast.

That very same night, they actually moved me right back into my FIRST room—even the same bed! While I was settling in, I ran into my neighbor who was heading off for an MRI...

First thing I asked her when she got back from her CT scan was if she at least got some soup.

NOPE, obviously—not just no soup, but no actual lunch at all! But hey, we made the most of it by listening to music and the news on my little radio, and she had her phone... it was low-key, but we could still have visitors in the room.

We managed to make it work, but guess what? We totally forgot to swap phone numbers! I know her full name, but I don't know her husband's... so I couldn't even find her in my contacts.
The icing on the cake? The lady is young and they gave her access to the best MRI machine, but then they ended up sending her for a "classic" CT scan with contrast anyway!? Like, why?

The night flew by. By 9 AM, my folks were already there to pick me up, and my medical history was waiting to be sorted... I barely managed to make it step-by-step to the exit where my "taxi driver" was waiting for me.

Man, finally done with this whole hospital saga. 😁

Just one more thing:

The only time they gave me grief was when I made my "unplanned" exit from the physical therapist, because

before heading home, I insisted on getting some actual rehab exercises in first.

Honestly? My own stubbornness saved me. I grabbed every single chance to move! Permission or not... I wasn't backing down... and I definitely wasn't just sitting there waiting on them...

Now, Timothy was the complete opposite. He did everything in his power to stay dependent on everyone else. They claimed it was some psychological fear of breathing naturally... like he’d suffocate... even though he’d already spent over 10 hours off the ventilator, breathing perfectly fine on his own lungs.
Last I heard, they were finally moving him out of the ICU...
After three whole months!

Such an interesting history lesson... it really captures that other side of things, the patient perspective that we medical professionals often overlook, especially back when dealing with the Communist Party USA.
You’ve been describing things with more and more accuracy lately, but if you don't mind me chiming in just a little bit...🙂

Go ahead, bring it on...
But first, why don't you explain what that actually means within the Communist Party USA?