Hospital Haziness

I have had many fears over the past couple of weeks about going to the hospital.  For one, I don’t want to be exposed to Covid.  Secondly, I don’t want to take up space and resources from those that have it.  Third, change terrifies me, and it seems like every time I end up in the ER there is some huge change happening.  And on top of all this, I have been living with the worry that I will not be getting my surgery any time soon, as all elective surgeries have been cancelled.

So, when I woke up sick at six am yesterday morning, I held my ground.  I took some Compazine and Bentyl and Xanax and tried to get the storm to pass, but sometime around 11am, there was blood in the vomit, so off I went.

I was the only person in the waiting room.  It occurred to me that perhaps others were avoiding the ER, too.  I was momentarily grateful, as my name was immediately called and I was registered right away.

They put me in a room.  A doc came in with a med student.  A quick exam, and three shots in the arm: Compazine, Ativan, morphine.  Some blood work, and Xray, and then to a chair in the internal waiting room with a nice heated blanket and two women watching soap operas.  Sleep.

Awake.

Moved to another room.  Given papers, told to leave.  Out the door and into my mom’s car and home again and then back to…sleep.

It was probably the easiest ER trip I’ve ever had and for that I am super grateful.  But then there is the leftover haze the next day, as I sit down to type my blog, and I can’t seem to remember what I had to say.  That’s the worst part, even worse than my sore esophagus.  Still…

In the past week, two people I know were diagnosed with Covid, and one had a major scare that turned out to be something else, thank God.  And that right there: “thank God it was something else,” is the problem.  It is the perfect illustration of why Covid is so scary; we will always be rooting for the lesser of two evils, and Covid is the supreme evil of the moment.

They talk a lot on the news about people who won’t wear a mask, and their arguments are pretty hypocritical at most times.  But I look around and I see way more people volunteering to do so than not, and that gives me hope. 

I have diabetes, so I am high-risk for Covid.  I’ve worn a mask since day one.  I will continue to do so well into the future.  I intend to get the vaccine when it is available to me.  When I see people eschew the science because of their so-called “personal freedoms,” all I can think is “wow…that asshole wants me dead.”

I don’t know.  Maybe it was the 20 years of Catholicism that taught me the whole “do unto others” song and dance, but I just don’t see why grown adults are behaving like petulant children.  I can’t get sick, guys.  I am sick enough.

So, my ER trip went better than expected, but only served as a reminder that this thing is serious.  And people are acting like it isn’t.  I mean, I’m not perfect.  I try to follow the rules as best I can but I have certainly slipped up.  But I’m trying.  Some people aren’t even doing that.

I know this blog was a little all over the place.  I’m a little all over the place, still floating on that hospital fog and definitely needing a couple more hours of sleep.  But if you take nothing else from this post, take this: wear your damn mask.

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