My Latest (Mis)Adventure pt 2
previously on my (mis)adventure, i was being held overnight for observation
I’m sent to another room where I am told to change into a hospital gown. These things are the next step from the poncho shirt things that are in fashion for chicks. I wouldn’t be surprised if they come in fashion some how. I lay around for a little while watching the nurses do their thing. A nurse called Vikky chats to me and tells me she has to get some swabs from me, just to check if I have any super bugs. “Sure, no worries, where do you have to get swabs from?” I ask. “Your nose and groin” she replies. I simply laugh and tell her “that’s fine, I feel like public property right now any way”. I’m glad she laughed, I don’t like nurses how are too serious.
Shortly after, I’m taken to ward three, bed number two: surgical short stay. My neighbors are all old men how need nappies. Joy, this is going to be a long night. Whilst nothing of any great excitement happened during the night, there were a few things that did trigger a sick sense of humor I seem to have.
The Indian gentleman across the room from me tended to fart a lot, and talk in his sleep. I later discovered that also talked when he was awake, it just didn’t seem to matter if any one was there or not. What amused me was the fact is was the most stereotypical fart sound you could imagine. He must provide his fart sound to all the sound effects companies all over the world. Later that morning he got up and walked around to do his usual things. He went to the bathroom, not to have a piss, but just a shit. He carries his artificial bladder around with him like a purse; just what you want to see when you are having your first meal in 24 hours.
On the note of food, I have learned to deal with hunger after being in hospital. And then again when I had to fast for my CT scan. Its not as bad as it seems, however, I can’t see how people who suffer from anorexia can do it to them selves. It must take amazing amounts of self-control; the only motivation I had was that if I had to get my appendix pulled, any food in my stomach may complicate things.
Any way, back to the guy across the isle from me. He had his two sons, and an old woman who I assume was his wife, come and visit him. Freud would have had a field day with what happened. For most of the time, the two sons spent more time with the mother than the father. The father spent most of the time sitting in a chair on the other side of the bed from his relatives. Little conversation took place between every one. It was mostly between the mother and two sons. After some time, the relatives left. The most affection I saw was when the wave waved goodbye to the husband. Poor guy, I honestly felt for him.
The gentleman next to me shat a lot. What I gathered was that he got out of surgery a few days beforehand and was just starting on solid foods. His bowls were having a tough time adjusting. The morning of my departure, he was begging the nurses and doctors for something to stop it. The doctor’s reply: “we can…but we’d rather not. If it needs to flow then its best to let it flow” poor guy, I honestly had a feeling of what it would be like.
During the night, the poor bloke kept on shitting himself. The one incident that sticks out in my mind is this. He called the nurse, suspecting that he had soiled himself like a cow stuck in a leaking waterbed. So the nurse immediately starts cleaning him up. Half way through, this little interlude occurs:
Patient: I think I need to go again.Nurse: ok, just let me tidy you up
Patient: I think I can feel it coming again; I need a bedpan
Nurse: I just need to clean you up first.-Business: she asks him to turn on his side-
Nurse: oh…you did it again.
Patient: I told you I needed a bedpan.
Words fail me. Welcome to Ryde hospital…
Later that day, he had relatives come and see him. Most of the conversation that took place was so empty that they may as well have said nothing. The same amount of information would have been conveyed. It was seriously mind numbing to the point where I didn’t want to eves drop. Poor guy, he must have been so bored…
The gentleman diagonally across the room from me slept a lot. I think he was having a bearable time of it all.
I had a lot of time to think about stuff when I was listening to my neighbor shit himself repetitively. I thought about a career as a nurse, but just at that moment Mr. Shitty bed called for the nurse; 3 guesses what for. Now I don’t believe in signs, but that was a definite hint from any/all higher powers.
In the morning, I had a doctor come and visit me, just as I had fallen asleep. He pokes and prods around, and comes to the conclusion of gastroenteritis. My mum came and visited me and eventually took me home. It took ages to eventually get discharged; the poor nurses there are so over worked. After taking a cab home, I showered cause I was just feeling seedy.
Now its been a week since I wrote the initial part, and now when I’m finishing, so there are many details which have been lost unfortunately. If any come to mind, I will add them to the post.
Thank you for your audience.
§prax.
I’m sent to another room where I am told to change into a hospital gown. These things are the next step from the poncho shirt things that are in fashion for chicks. I wouldn’t be surprised if they come in fashion some how. I lay around for a little while watching the nurses do their thing. A nurse called Vikky chats to me and tells me she has to get some swabs from me, just to check if I have any super bugs. “Sure, no worries, where do you have to get swabs from?” I ask. “Your nose and groin” she replies. I simply laugh and tell her “that’s fine, I feel like public property right now any way”. I’m glad she laughed, I don’t like nurses how are too serious.
Shortly after, I’m taken to ward three, bed number two: surgical short stay. My neighbors are all old men how need nappies. Joy, this is going to be a long night. Whilst nothing of any great excitement happened during the night, there were a few things that did trigger a sick sense of humor I seem to have.
The Indian gentleman across the room from me tended to fart a lot, and talk in his sleep. I later discovered that also talked when he was awake, it just didn’t seem to matter if any one was there or not. What amused me was the fact is was the most stereotypical fart sound you could imagine. He must provide his fart sound to all the sound effects companies all over the world. Later that morning he got up and walked around to do his usual things. He went to the bathroom, not to have a piss, but just a shit. He carries his artificial bladder around with him like a purse; just what you want to see when you are having your first meal in 24 hours.
On the note of food, I have learned to deal with hunger after being in hospital. And then again when I had to fast for my CT scan. Its not as bad as it seems, however, I can’t see how people who suffer from anorexia can do it to them selves. It must take amazing amounts of self-control; the only motivation I had was that if I had to get my appendix pulled, any food in my stomach may complicate things.
Any way, back to the guy across the isle from me. He had his two sons, and an old woman who I assume was his wife, come and visit him. Freud would have had a field day with what happened. For most of the time, the two sons spent more time with the mother than the father. The father spent most of the time sitting in a chair on the other side of the bed from his relatives. Little conversation took place between every one. It was mostly between the mother and two sons. After some time, the relatives left. The most affection I saw was when the wave waved goodbye to the husband. Poor guy, I honestly felt for him.
The gentleman next to me shat a lot. What I gathered was that he got out of surgery a few days beforehand and was just starting on solid foods. His bowls were having a tough time adjusting. The morning of my departure, he was begging the nurses and doctors for something to stop it. The doctor’s reply: “we can…but we’d rather not. If it needs to flow then its best to let it flow” poor guy, I honestly had a feeling of what it would be like.
During the night, the poor bloke kept on shitting himself. The one incident that sticks out in my mind is this. He called the nurse, suspecting that he had soiled himself like a cow stuck in a leaking waterbed. So the nurse immediately starts cleaning him up. Half way through, this little interlude occurs:
Patient: I think I need to go again.Nurse: ok, just let me tidy you up
Patient: I think I can feel it coming again; I need a bedpan
Nurse: I just need to clean you up first.-Business: she asks him to turn on his side-
Nurse: oh…you did it again.
Patient: I told you I needed a bedpan.
Words fail me. Welcome to Ryde hospital…
Later that day, he had relatives come and see him. Most of the conversation that took place was so empty that they may as well have said nothing. The same amount of information would have been conveyed. It was seriously mind numbing to the point where I didn’t want to eves drop. Poor guy, he must have been so bored…
The gentleman diagonally across the room from me slept a lot. I think he was having a bearable time of it all.
I had a lot of time to think about stuff when I was listening to my neighbor shit himself repetitively. I thought about a career as a nurse, but just at that moment Mr. Shitty bed called for the nurse; 3 guesses what for. Now I don’t believe in signs, but that was a definite hint from any/all higher powers.
In the morning, I had a doctor come and visit me, just as I had fallen asleep. He pokes and prods around, and comes to the conclusion of gastroenteritis. My mum came and visited me and eventually took me home. It took ages to eventually get discharged; the poor nurses there are so over worked. After taking a cab home, I showered cause I was just feeling seedy.
Now its been a week since I wrote the initial part, and now when I’m finishing, so there are many details which have been lost unfortunately. If any come to mind, I will add them to the post.
Thank you for your audience.
§prax.
posted by §prax at 8:35 PM
2 comments
