How to Weasel Your Way out of the Hospital

2 Oct


Hospital life is unpleasant in general, but when you have to share your space with a lot of people, it can really get to be too much.  I was okay for the week that I was in the four-bed men’s intermediate care ward, but when I was moved to the eight-bed ladies’ standard care ward, I lost it.  There is no privacy in an eight-person ward, and patients can often get on each other’s nerves.  One notable incident involved a grumpy old woman who called the nurse to complain about me when I was up reading with my personal light after she had turned her light off.  The lack of space was more than I could take, so I had my mom take me out into the TV room and the hospital courtyard gardens as often as possible.

I was moved into the ward on a Friday, and as the hospital doesn’t discharge patients over the weekend, I knew that I was trapped until at least Monday.  So after many tears on my part, Mom and I worked together to plot on how to get me sprung from the hospital just a week and a half after brain surgery.  First thing Monday morning, she dressed me in civilian clothes so that I would look as healthy as possible.  Then when the neurosurgeon made his rounds and asked how I felt, I said, “I feel fine and I fully intend on going home this afternoon.”  He said he was surprised at how quickly I had recovered and knew that I was determined to get out, so he agreed to let me go home.

Once I arrived home, I don’t know what made me happiest — being able to sleep in my own bed, use my own bathroom, or eat my mom’s cooking.  Those are three things that the hospital just isn’t able to recreate very well.


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