Lost among the cyber stars

Hospitals.  Places of healing inhabited by two groups of people.  Those who need healing, and those who are there to help them.  Seems fairly simple.  So, why is it that people hate going into the hospital.  People are nice to you there.   People you haven't seen in years come to visit and bring pretty plants.  Some make strained conversation for a few minutes and then not so gracefully excuse themselves.  Others come for the duration.  People that you usually avoid have you right where they want you - trapped.  No avoiding them.

So, what is it that really makes people NOT want to go to the hospital.  

There are the usual things - you gotta be sick to go there - people wake you at 6 in the morning to stick needles into you - the food is terrible (I don't think so.  I rather enjoy some of it) - those damn gowns that open in the back and expose your butt - (my personal favorite) IV's - the long waits after you push the call button (like the nurse has absolutely nothing else to do) - cold rooms in the summer - hot rooms in the winter - don't get to choose your roommate - ad nauseum.

But what is it about hospitals that we really hate?

Let's start with why you are there.  Duh!  You're sick.  And how friendly and happy are you when you are that sick?  So, we start with a bad mood, and not feeling well.

The room.  You have two choices (actually you don't have a choice).  You can look out the window at the parking lot, or you can look out the door at the hallway.  Not exactly a beautiful sunset on the ocean.

The bed.  It's hard and it's uncomfortable, and it's covered with plastic, as are the pillows.  People pay good money to sweat this much in a sauna.

The roommate.  Absolutely no choice here.  Sometimes you get very lucky and get someone who is willing to talk.  Sometimes you don't.  Sometimes you get the moaning screamer or the one in a really bad mood.  Not their fault.  They're sick, too.  Hard to remember at 2 in the morning.

The IV pole.  Your closest friend and your shadow.  It goes wherever you go.  And when one of those bags runs out of fluid, you can lie there and listen to it beep until someone comes and turns off the beep.

The visitors.  They seem to come in packs, and they are loud.  Some turn out to be very nice people.  Some are even rather amusing to listen to.

The lack of control.  As far as I'm concerned, this is the biggie.  You're stuck in a room you don't want to be in.  You're surrounded by people you don't know.  You have very little say over your own life (and sometimes over your own body).  People you don't know come in and invade your personal space.  They poke and prod you.  They stick needles in you.  They ask embarassing questions (when did you last throw up).  There is no privacy.  Even if you don't have a roommate, someone can come walking into the room at any second.  And just like you can hear everything the staff and visitors have to say to your roommate, so your roommate can hear everything they have to say to you. 

Privacy?  No such thing.

Personal Space?  No such thing.

Dignity?  Damn little.

Now that I have amused a few people and alienated a few more, let me explain something.

I'm not a totally insensitive lout.  I know the reality of being in a hospital.  I know the necessity of all the things that can drive a patient to the brink of nastiness.

I understand the phlebotomists come at 6 in the morning because they need to get the patient bloodwork done before the rest of the world descends on them.

Long waits after pushing the call button are aggrivating but necessary.  There are other people who also need someone to assist them.

The uncomfortable bed and pillows are covered in plastic because they must be able to be sanitized between each visitor.

And the floor staff.  God bless em every one.  They are human beings and each and every one of them brings a personality with them.  As does every single patient.  Sometimes the personalities don't quite mesh, but God bless em, they keep coming back to check on us to make sure we are OK.  And if we're not OK, they do their best to help make us OK, or at least make us as comfortable as they can. 

It's amazing what a simple glass of ice water can do for a bad temper.