Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Dear Hospital,

As much as I hate to say it, I think it's about time that you and I had a little rendezvous. I've got some weird stuff going on that I could really use your help with.

I'm definitely not happy about it, but I'm proud to say that I won't have to be bound, gagged and physically carried into a bed this time. (Look at me... I must be growing up.) But please don't judge me too harshly if I complain just a little - I know I'm luckier than a lot of people - it's just that I'm not quite used to these changes in my health; I'm not used to needing to visit you so often. I'm sure that as time goes on, you and I will begin spending more time together, and I really think I'll learn to be okay with that. I just need a little more time.

I've been making preparations this time around; I don't want to be caught off guard like I have in the past. I've made arrangements with work and a babysitter, and I'm coming to clinic in two weeks with my bags packed, entirely prepared to stay for a while. If by some miracle I'm feeling better by then, or if my doctor has an alternative plan, I promise that I won't complain even once about all this planning being in vain. (See? Grown up.) I'll just consider myself a lucky girl and be grateful that I get to go home to my family.

But I must warn you that if that is the case and I don't have to be admitted, as I walk out the doors, bags in hand, I may not be able to restrain myself from doing a little victory dance and telling you to go ahead and SUCK IT!

With resentment love,
Your (perhaps not totally grown up) friend,

P.S. Before I come, can you please warn the nursing staff that I will cry EVERY TIME they ask about my baby, and also tell that guy from Respiratory that I have absolutely no desire to talk about his love for Jack Johnson during every... single... one... of my evening treatments. Thanks.  


  1. Ugh. To grow up. To actually make the decision to go in-patient. What a surreal experience. So empowering, yet so frustrating.

    I'll be thinking of you and sending you lots of peaceful and positive thoughts.

    Who's Jack Johnson? He sounds dreamy. ;-) I'm such a stinker.

  2. Do the RTs stay in the room the entire time you're doing your treatments? I don't put up with that and I kick them out. They learn fast to drop the meds, listen to my lungs, and leave.

  3. Praying like crazy that whatever you need for absolute health is the path you take!!! You just need to come to Hawaii and let me take care of you for a while:)

  4. Good luck! I'm sad we keep missing each other, though.... ;)

  5. Josh - It is VERY empowering to feel like I'm making the choice, not being forced into it. Up to this point, I've only been admitted when I absolutely had to be.

    And I don't know too much about this Jack Johnson fellow, but I can get you in touch with someone who does. ;)

    UC - There are a few RT's who stand out in the hall, but for the most part, they stay in the room. I can count on having one of two RT's for the first three treatments of the day, both of which I really enjoy chatting with. It's just that last treatment of the day that brings out the weirdos. Maybe I'll begin kindly asking them to either leave the room or shut the hell up.

    Missa - Be careful what you offer. You may find me sitting on your doorstep one day. Thank you for your always kind thoughts.

    Cindy - One of these days... (SO glad you're home, by the way.)

  6. You are sounding more and more like an old spinster every day :) Just be sure those bags you are packing contain as much leftover turkey as possible. A big XO to you!


First of all, thanks for reading my blog. Whether you visit regularly or this happens to be your first time here, I'd love to hear from you!