Being Appreciated

Let's face it, writing is a lonely business. It's you and a blank page or empty screen, waiting for words that sometimes just won't come, often with a deadline looming over the right shoulder.

And blogs can be the worst, not knowing if anyone out there besides family and friends is reading what you've toiled over, sweated over, cussed over and polished as best you might.

So I was thrilled to get an encouraging note from a fellow writer and coincidentially fellow COPD sufferer, Kwrenb. She added my blog to her COPD pages and I added her COPD pages to my permanent links. If you get a chance, check out her writing site as well. She has a real gift for words I think you'll enjoy.

And if you're a writer too, drop her and me a line. We have to keep up one another's spirits in the lonely writing world!

Life From a Hospital Bed

I just spent some time in the hospital with a pituitary gland problem and boy do I have some stories to tell about the roommate from hell.

This chickie kept me up every night hanging on the buzzer for pain meds when she knew she couldn't have them until the scheduled time, and calling on Jesus and all the Saints in the meantime just for fun evidentially. She spent a lot of time talking to herself and not making much sense.

When she wasn't busy keeping me sleepless- like I needed any help between blood pressure checks and blood-draws- she spent time buzzing the nurses for things like pudding they didn't stock. Then she made a federal case that she was discriminated against due to not being provided pudding in a timely fashion.

She refused to eat her meals and then carried on when the trays weren't left in the room just in case she might want to eat something off of them hours later.

Then she started floor-surfing in the wheelchair. She had been untethered from her IV pole to go to dialysis. She missed her IV antibiotics by three hours due to smoking outside the hospital ER, and generally wheeling herself about so that the nurses had no idea where the hell she was at any given time.

My roommate even had a neighbor bring her the checks out of her mailbox and persuaded him or her to drive her to the check-cashing store around the corner. Evidentially her need for pain meds was taken care of by freedom to roam the halls and nearby streets since she missed her dosing schedule by hours.

The kicker was when she fell asleep sitting up in her bed - finally- with a thousand plus dollars in her lap. The nurses didn't dare leave the money unsecured so they counted it and placed it in the safe while she slept on. Upon awakening she accused "someone" of stealing her money. When she was informed it was locked up and would stay that way until she was released, she threw what we in the south would qualify as a hissy-fit, something better suited to a two-year-old than a grown adult.

Never was I more grateful to hear the blessed words, "You can go home today."