As I was wheeled to my new room upstairs I was reminded again how vast County/USC Medical truly is. It's a huge monstrosity that doesn't seem to go on forever, it does. I asked the attendant if she ever got lost and she told me that newly hired staff have to take a test on every location in the building. They have two chances to take it, and hardly anyone passes the first time around. Finally, after many twists and turns we arrived at my new room - and I was amazed at how much better it was than my old room. This one was larger and had a window, a television and a phone. Plus there was a big bathroom with a shower. After being in that awful little hole downstairs I suddenly felt like the Jeffersons with a deluxe apartment in the sky!
A new nurse came into the room and told me what was going to happen to me. Tomorrow I would meet with my Pulmonary Team, a hematologist, and the general doctor who was assigned to me. They would be able to give me more information about what was going on as well as filling me in on the course of action they wanted to take. I probably wouldn't have the bronchoscopy until Friday which meant I had a whole other day to fret about it. At this point I just wanted to get everything over with as soon as possible. I noticed that there was a white board hanging on the wall that listed the names of my nurse, attendant, doctors and their stated goal which was to keep their patient (that would be me) pain free, make sure the patient didn't have any falls, or any problems breathing. What the hell kind of stupid goals were those? I pointed out to her that I wasn't in any pain, I wasn't in any danger of falling, and that I was breathing just fine. Thankfully she erased them. Then I noticed that it said that my estimated release date was Monday. It was Wednesday night. That meant I was going to be in there for another five days! I freaked out and became a cranky bitch. She calmed me down by saying it was just an estimate, that she was sure I was going to be out sooner like maybe Saturday. She asked if there was anything else she could do for me? Since I was in cranky bitch mode I told her that I was a vegetarian, and that the meals I had in there so far were neither vegetarian nor very good. She promised me that they would provide me with vegetarian meals and that they would be better. I also asked for something to help me sleep since I was both exhausted and full of anxiety. I knew that there would be no way in hell that I would be able to sleep on my own. She said she would order me a tranquilizer and would bring it to me as soon as it arrived. Yeah!
I was no longer hooked up to any noisy machines. Instead, an attendant came in every four hours to take my vital signs. My new room was greatly improved, and after taking my tranquilizer I climbed into bed with the book that Sparky had brought me from home, Patti Smith's "Just Kids", which I had been meaning to read forever. That's the one thing about being in the hospital (or prison): you have plenty of time to read. So I opened my book and read until the tranquilizer kicked in. I was feeling way less anxious and was looking forward to taking a shower in the morning. My outlook had improved and I thought that maybe I would get out of there in just a few days, maybe I didn't have cancer, and maybe it was all going to be fine even though we didn't have health insurance, and maybe I finally got a piece of the pie.
(to be continued...)
Just Kids is like poetry.
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