hospitals

So, I’m writing this while I sit in the Kaiser Hospital (somewhere) in San Jose. My BFF is getting a screw drilled into her toe. (It’s hyper-flexible to the point it won’t stay down and is causing shooting pain up her leg and into her lower back. Being that she’s only 27, better to take care of the problem now than wait for it to (definitely) get worse.)

It’s funny how much time of my life has been spent in hospitals/emergency rooms. My mom swore child services was going to be called on her after having to take me to the ER multiple times in a year. What can I say? I’m a bit accident prone.

My first surgery occured when I was only 7. Tonsils out. Apparently, they don’t really do this surgery anymore, but in the mid-80s it was all the rage for children who habitually got strep throat (ahem, ME). I remember being excited for a diet of ice cream and jello, as my doctor really knew how to sell surgery to a kid. What wasn’t explained was the intense pain of a sore throat a million times worse that any strep case I had. Ice cream and jello? Fuck that, I could barely swallow. Bastards. Tears, plenty of them, needless to say, were the outcome of that little trip. Leading up to the surgery however, my mom recounts sewing a doctor uniform for my brother and a nurse uniform for me, always telling me I could be a doctor too, but not having the heart to tell my brother he could be a nurse.

Fast forward to the age of 10. I had a little problem with bladder control and tests determined that it wasn’t my strong will against potty training, but a too-small bladder. What? To this day, I’m really not sure. I remember this trip vividly because I got to bring the class stuffed animal with me to the procedure. Spike, the stuffed dog, and his journal accompanied me through every aspect of surgery — from x-rays to the operating table. (His xray was pretty cool because you see his metal dog collar and his outline. Amusing for a 3rd grader, to say the least.) Obviously, the surgery was a success as I’ve not wet the bed since then.

Other hospital visits including multiple stiches in my head, arm, leg, my brother’s broken foot and so many other injuries associated with childhood.

I got a good break from hospital life until my mom got sick. Three years of appointments, trips to the emergency room and 6 (yes, 6) surgeries made me a professional at navigating Kaiser facilities and procedures. I really grew to sympathize the people who weren’t in the hospital all the time and didn’t know how to work the system. Though, in hindsight, that’s the lesser of two evils I would much rather have had. Better to be frustrated and unsure, than so used to the environment, it’s practially commonplace.

And so here I am in another hospital. But I know the outcome of this surgery will be the end of the problem, not just hope of ending the problem and waiting to see what happens. The body is an amazing and crazy thing. It baffles the mind that we can cut, drill and screw things into our bodies. Being at the hospital serves as a reminder of what I’ve been through and how lucky I really am.

I’ve still never broken a bone. *knocks on wood*