Here's another "View from the Hospital Bed" and hopefully the last! The docs are making noises like I'm going to go home tomorrow instead of Monday. I've still got some coughing going on, but tests have come back good and I think they're running out of reasons to keep me. I still don't know how soon before I can go back to work. Not too long, I hope. Unfortunately I've generally been too optimistic in the past on that front. I'd rather not find myself writing the companion piece, "Musings from the Recliner" for another extended run. I just hate leaving the folks at work holding the bag with their work and mine, too.
"Pull for help". As I wander around to the extent I'm allowed, which is not very much, I see these cords hanging out of the wall labeled "Pull for Help". In the bathroom, in the shower room - that sort of place. I don't need help. Actually, I don't even want help - especially there. But still... A cord like that just looks like its made to be pulled and the temptation is strong. Perhaps it's my enlisted military past, but the little sign looks more a like a general instruction, rather than an "in case of" sort of thing. I won't of course. Not because SOMEBODY shouldn't be pulling them, just because the consequences of such an evil and rebellious act could be dire, and I fear anything that might my defer my parole. It would be a bit disconcerting to find myself duct taped to my bed, even if I did deserve it. To my credit, the temptation to push the little blue button next to bed labeled "Code" is far less. I know that would cause a ruckus and I'd likely be not only duct taped to my bed, but forced to watch some mindless TV show as penance.
I can hear it now:
- The Hospital powers and principalities - "You are hereby sentenced to 'Sponge Bob Square Pants'!"
- Me - "Noooo! Anything but Sponge Bob!"
- Powers - "Then... 'The View'!! Buwahahahaha!!!"
- Me - "Sponge Bob! Sponge Bob! Bring on Sponge Bob and the pink starfish, too!!"
Once again the hospital staff from doctors on down (especially the Respiratory Therapists) have been wonderful. With a little wisdom and judicious restraint when working through my menu choices the meals are pretty decent. I've had visits from friends and family, texts, emails, blog comments (The same write-up goes out via email to some in addition to getting posted on 'Hoosier Country Home'). It's clear I've not been forgotten and that is a wonderful thing.
I may not be thrilled about being here, but everyone has worked to make it a positive experience, and I am getting better. Under the circumstances, that still makes for a real blessing and I'll count it that way.