[CF Fatboy’s guest post is in the comment section. Watch out, it burns.]
Feeling tired today from the battle with @cysticgal. It could just be the cipro, day 7, or the Old Milwaukee, bottle 7.
I wish we had added number 11 to the blog throwdown:
11) Describe the perfect hospital stay.
My first answer would be: Not going at all. But considering I’ve been going every four months, here’s my answer for today.
I want everyone to line up in the hallway when I arrive, Nurses, Doctors, techs, RTs. Stand in the hall and greet His Highness, please.
My antibiotics need to be ready to go the minute I arrive, no waiting four hours for the first dose.
The PICC line nurse needs to be waiting in my room and gowned up. No more temporary peripheral IV sites. I’m tired of the 24-hour IV site in the fatty part of my forearm that takes every o.z. of my inner reserve not to cry out like Mel Gibson at the end of Braveheart: FREEDOM . . . . . S**T, THAT HURTS.
I want a workstation. No more putting the laptop on the bed and pulling the chair up to it. Think Marriott.
I want a massage every day. You truly want me to feel better? Massage is the Disney Fastpass to good health and Heaven, my friend. Heaven. I’ll cough up mucus from 1969 if you do this for me.
No RTs. That’s right. Unless I can’t move my arms, give me all of the meds I need and come back in 14 days. I can do it myself, LIKE I DO EVERYDAY OF MY LIFE. Most of the RTs I know should be wearing brown UPS outfits because their only job is to deliver stuff.
So, what do you think? What did I miss? Feel free to add some of your own in the comments section. It’s interactive today cause I’m feeling lazy and I have have to go wash the Bird (that’s guy code for Tran-Am). 🙂