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I've never met anyone who willingly went to the hospital.
Now, now, don't be silly. Of course, I'm not referring to the folks who work there. That's totally by choice -- and truly all well and good in every sense.
Oh, BT dubs, THANK GOD for all of you who do work in a hospital in any capacity. You are, in my estimation, all heroes. Like, for reals. #HospitalWorkersRock
Nor am I referring to anyone who's had to be brought in because of an emergency, obvi. In our fam, we've had a decent amount of health unpleasantries. Everything ranging from my Pop's heart attack to my broken collar bone from a car smashup, to my son's broken wrist from a bicycle mishap.
Oh, and thanks for taking a decade off my life on that last one, Kyle.
I speak on behalf of those of us who very, very much and greatly a lot (plus tons of bushels of bunches) absolutely, unequivocally and against all of our wants and desires get sent to the hospital for nonemergency situations.
In fact, I believe I will go out on a limb and say that pretty much every human in the history of peopledom who ever got sent to the hospital for "assessment and testing" promptly went: "But I don't wanna."
What? It seemed like a perfectly logical argument to me? Hmpf.
As my doctor told me when I protested, "Patty, nobody WANTS to go to the hospital."
That guy's pretty smart, natch.
And in support of his theory, I feel compelled to confess that I could literally have wanted NOTHING less than to spend three days in the hospital recently.
Why?
Well, firstly because it's scary in general. It's the HOSPITAL.
Sure, lotsa good stuff goes on in that place but then again, a fair amount of bad stuff does, too, capisce?
Let's take the roommate situation. Is it really the best idea? Just a thin little curtain separating bedmates? No good's coming of that, people.
Do I really need to know a complete stranger's preferred tickle spot when canoodling with her hubby? Or that mushrooms give her "super nasty smelling" toots? No. No, I do not. CRINGE.
Also, on what planet do I want my backside sticking out from beneath that ridiculously ugly open-back gown? Not exactly the kind you see at the Oscars.
And speaking of sticking, do I really need my blood drawn every 17 minutes? I mean, do I LOOK like grandma's fluffy red pin cushion? Well, to be fair, I might have by day three, but I didn't when I walked in.
Then there's the whole cart issue. It's like the Daytona 500 of carts. Medicine carts. Anesthesia carts. IV carts. Bedside carts. Food carts.
OK, fine, they're lifesavers. But the one truly awful thing they have in common? They're all squeaky.
Did I mention the carts roll up and down the hallway 24/7?
By the by, thank God for hospitals with their icky food and squeaky carts and oversharing roomies -- especially the ANGELS ON EARTH nurses. #LoveYouKathy
I guess hospitals aren't so bad.
May I never have to go there again.
-- Kimerer is on the mend at www.patriciakimerer.com.