blogitto ergo sum

December 19, 2008

#140 – From Goth to Gown

Filed under: Uncategorized — yael [ya-el] wagner @ 04:29
Tags: ,

This one is to Martin, Eran and Simon.

A thought

Who could imagine that one Saturday I’ll be shopping for a new Goth pants, wear it on Wednesday, and change to a hospital gown on Thursday???  Not me.  The Goth blog will wait though.

Packing list

I know what to pack for a biz trip, but what do you take to a hospital?  Once it was decided that I’ll be spending the night[s] at the hospital, the Dr. suggested that I’ll first check-in and than go out to get my stuff.  “That way”, he said, “you won’t have to come back here again after you’ve been to the hotel”.  Well spoken.  40 minutes later, with my hospital bracelet, Martin and I were still waiting.  I decided I could use the special bonding, and hunted down the Dr. @ his office.  “I’m sorry, can you please tell us how long it’s going to take?”

“What?!! You are still here?!! Come on, I’ll take you”.  And so I was delivered to the ward by the nice doctor himself, who explained, to the nurses’ surprise, that I’m checking in, but will be leaving shortly.

I was relieved to be in the cab.  Can’t say that I wasn’t tempted to “fall asleep” in my hotel room and wake up in the morning all innocent.  Who cares where I sleep if it’s only sleeping.  But the IV thingy was hurting me and I was finally, getting hungry after 23 hours with no food and the only food/drink I was allowed comes in clear plastic bags.  Martin verified, IN PERSON, that I got in the cab to go back to the hospital.

What did I pack?  A laptop, one charger for phone, MP3 player, USB cable.  The electronics took much more room and were heavier than the necessities like tooth brush & paste, change of cloth…  Geek!

Karolinska University Hospital

Karolinska University Hospital

11:30 PM

Of course, not using one, I didn’t pack a PJ.  The hospital took care of it.   Too white.  With my mouth dry, after 24 hours with no food, but couple of cups of water, IV was my feeder.

Laptop connected, Wi-Fi is free, Rhapsody is the soundtrack of my night.

First night at the hospital, and I did use the alarm button to call for pain killers.  It was time to give in.

Of course, once the pain killers started working, FaceBook, Twitter and their likes came to life.

05:00 AM

A polite knock at the door woke me up.  A nurse is coming for my blood.  With my eyes closed I stretch my hand, remember to tell her that my veins are narrow, and falls back to sleep.

At 7:40, I’m up again, learning that one cannot undress with IV attached.  A nurse is coming to help, and is sent back to get me towels, and of course, a clean PJ.  I opt for my own cloth.

At 9:30, I get the day’s doctor visit.  No one notes that since my shower, the IV had not been reattached.  I figure they will eventually.  “Turn off the music” is her first sentence.  And than, like they all do, she introduces herself by first name, shakes my hand and tells me how, even with my blood test results, they are still not sure what I have on top of gallstones.  How reassuring.

At 10:30, when my chaperon is coming to take me for my ultra sound, I stop him from moving the bad and demonstrate my ability to walk.  He is not sure what to do, so I start walking out of the room.

An hour later I’m done, and now I know better than to wait for a chaperon.  I walk back to the ward alone.  Still with no water or food, I’m thinking Yom Kippur.


Between twitters, I dose off, get another pain killer and blood pressure is measured for the 2nd or 3rd time.

@ 14:00 or so, I’m waked up to be told that I am allowed to have my first meal.  39 hours since my last supper.  No one bothers to comment on the music anymore – guess they got used to it.    It’s a hospital; I have low expectations regarding my first meal.  Wrong.  3 crepes stuffed with mushroom and dill with nice mustardy sauce arrive.  And water.  And a horrible coffee that once left alone, I set free down the sink.

Gallbladder however, is inflamed, flight is highly discouraged, and another night of observation is prescribed.  I am down.  The pain is down, but it doesn’t matter, since I can’t find even one doctor [consulted with London and Israel] that will tell me that I should just walk away.

Around 17:00, my new babysitter is in, and everything looks better.  As much as I try to keep work out of here, how can I not feel lucky to work with people I really like?  How can I not smile when Eran, rerouting his ticket, is my new chaperon/body guard?

With some hope offered by the doctor, I get all energized to buy my ticket home for the following day.  Simon is rushing it though the system, while I head to the hotel to pack my stuff and check out.

Given that the hospital declared me fit to eat, we go for a GOOD dinner.  Not only I’m not eating hospital food, I’m eating good, rich [read: fat] meat.  The reasoning?  This is what empirical testing is all about: If my body can handle this, I’m 100% fit to fly.

Grill, Drottninggatan 89 113 60 Stockholm

Grill, Drottninggatan 89 113 60 Stockholm

Let’s just say that the night provided enough evidence to suggest that while I may be OK to fly, I’m not entitled to a clear bill of health.

After unhealthy dinner and desert, back to my “dorm”.  If only the door wasn’t locked.  It takes three Swedes to figure out how to open the hospital doors, and another 15 minutes before I find my ward.  The nurses node.

“We’ll wake you @ 4:20 for your blood” they remind me.  Yes, since I told them I have a 13:35 flight, they asked the lab, the nurse and the doctor to do their things earlier, so I’ll make my flight.  Nice cannot describe it.

More yet to come. . .


Leave a Comment »

No comments yet.

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: