Friday, March 9, 2018

Hawaii Hospital Adventures

It's a glass-half-empty, glass half-full kind of thing.......

While there are better ways to spend your time in Hawaii........
 there's also worse places in the world to be laid up for recovery for a few extra weeks.

This is my view of Pearl Harbor and Diamond Head, from my hospital bed on the 4th floor of Queens Medical Center in Ewa Beach (That's pronounced Eva Beach).

Day #2 in the hospital is dandy, but would be better if Night #1 in the hospital had garnered some much-needed sleep.  I'm sure if you've done this before, you can relate -- there is no such thing as a good night's rest while they are trying to make sure that you don't check out of this world on their shift.  I can understand the whole waking me up to check vitals thing -- except -- then what's the dang monster monitor for -- the one that has more beeps and bells and alarm whistles than I've ever seen contained in one little box?!?  Then (and this I do NOT understand) why is it that they never close the door behind them?  My Mama always taught me to leave it like I found it........So after being awakened every couple of hours to be poked & prodded and asked "How are you doing" -- to which I always answer "Just fine, thank you" -- when what I want to say is "I was doing just fine until you friggin' woke me up" !  And each time I have to heave myself out of bed to close the door after them, 
(remember I have to dislodge myself from the hospital bed and all the crap I'm hooked up to) and then struggle to find my way back to my pillow (such as it is) and to la-la-land (wherever I left it) -- only to be awakened in another couple of hours to start it all over again.  So I'm admittedly a little grumpy the next morning.........

On Day #2 I get acquainted with all kinds of new alphabet friends -- 

Like E-K-G.  And M-R-I.  And M-R-A.  And E-C-H-O this.  And S-O-N-O that.  

The bright spot in the day is remembering that I'm in Hawaii.  Mr. C figures out how to raise my bed till I'm far enough above the window sill to enjoy the view, which alarms the nurses (perhaps they're worried I'll injure myself if I fall from this height??) but delights me.

And I'm finding a bit of Hawaiian humor where ever I can -- like this note on the soap machines -- in my bath as well as throughout the hospital:

Now we start to get bits of news that's not-so-great.  The EKG, again, shows some irregularity (whatever that means).  I ask them to show me -- and yup, even my untrained eye can see that the squiggly lines don't march across the paper like the soldiers they should be.  

Mr. E-C-H-O reports that there's a spot that's a bit lethargic.  Somebody's not pulling their weight. 

One of the tests comes back with a 35% number that should be more like 50% - 60%.  Hmmm......there's a slacker somewhere!

The MRI comes back with the tiniest little dot where it shouldn't be.

I'm starting to get really discouraged, here.  What started out as a "nothin" now has a good start on bein' a "somethin".  

Just then, I get a knock on my (still open) door -- and it's the Therapy Dog!   I could not be more thrilled!!  Super cutie pie, still learning her command "Visit -- Good girl, Nice Visit".  Licked my fingers happily.  A little scratch behind the ear and she melts right into you.  Good therapy indeed.

The other bright spot in my day, believe it or not, is mealtime.  They have a whole menu, they refer to it as "Room Service Dining" trying to help you feel like you're ordering food from a restaurant.  Trying to make you feel like you have choices.  

Including "Signature Entrees".  And "Featured Accompaniments".  Sounds fancy.  And it's working for me -- probably because otherwise I'm bored spit-less.

Then we're back to more tests and meetings with Doctors and specialists, including, now a Cardiologist.

One more test is needed, however, before they can come to a conclusion about my diagnosis and release me.........and that can't be done today, because -- of all things, I've had a half-cuppa' their really really bad coffee off their lovely Room Service Menu -- and they can't give me this particular test if I've had caffeine. Had I only known (both how bad the coffee was, and that it would stick me with one more day here) I would have been happy to skip it.

Instead I'm stuck for one more loooooong night with the revolving bedroom door.  Just answer me this -- where's my therapy dog when I need her?!?

1 comment:

  1. Your therapy dog with the same name is so cute! You look stylin for a patient for sure! Pretty sure you should be a model for the hospital’s marketing brochures!

    We are concerned of course and know you try to distract us with the gorgeous view and the cute doggy but... we love you and send our prayers! Time to focus on you and Mr C.


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