Desselb
The large clock ticks softly in my ear and as I ponder yet another weekend in our local hospital, I try to recall the things that got me through yet another "adventure " with, as my sister put, people in uniforms. I'm learning the secret colour coding of scrubs whether I want to or not and even after numerous suggestions for my ideas on redesigning the hospital gown, there has yet to be any change. After all, they had four whole days since our last encounter. What do they do between my visits? Unlike last week's trip, this one was at night. Things certainly look much different under cover of darkness and as I have quickly learnt lately, it takes a special kind of person to work nights in a hospital. I applaud everyone who has worked and continues to work these inhuman shifts. On arrival I was asked by the registration staff what my shirt said…it was then that I noticed I had put it on in a hurry and it was inside out. It's embroidered with giant silver gray thread. DESSELB. "What does that mean?", he asked casually. In disbelief, I unfortunately laughed out loud, which meant I snorted. Not attractive. Fumbling about, I tried to cover up the fact that a grown woman such as myself needed help dressing herself, but inside, I was aghast. The ER visit turned once again into a hospital admission followed by the usual prods, pokes and thorough testing. I had a lot of time to contemplate my surroundings this past weekend. The staff were busy and the hospital was full so I had to spend part of my time, like 14 hours, in an overflow room before going to a proper room on the 4th floor. The interior designer in me kicked in almost immediately. Since I was visiting so often, I asked if I could bring paint and fabric swatches to spruce the place up a little. My nurse found that hilarious but his assistant thought I was drunk. Afterall, It was Friday night in Fort Collins. I had to backtrack and persuade her that I had a condition that makes me practically delirious if I stay up past my bedtime and it was now waaaay past that. She almost bought it. You see, it's the same thing that happens when under the influence of sedation. I'm simply not responsible for what comes out of my mouth. The sheets were definitely NOT Egyptian cotton and well worn blankets had seen better days but I thanked the team and decided to remain quiet.
The doctor and her assistant who were assigned to me came in to do their final checks and determine if I could be released. When I asked her if I had any restrictions, she said I could return to normal housework etc. Without batting an eyelid, I replied, " Oh, I have people for that…well person….I have a house boy that takes very good care of me…" I think she audibly gasped but her scribe just about gagged. He was overcome to the point that he almost dropped his laptop. The doctor quickly tried to carry on the conversation stating that she wished she had a driver and some domestic help….it was an opportunity to impart more of Lesley's wisdom. "Oh", I said, "that's easy. I just don my tiara and wave accordingly and my entourage comes running….and by entourage, I mean my wonderful husband. Doctor, I said. One must perfect the wave to garner the help one desires. And besides, it might just be plastic, but if the tiara fits…..Not knowing what to say, they made their goodbyes and left.
I find it satisfying to render people speechless in an otherwise serious situation. Laughter is a balm to my soul and it's totally free! If I have learnt anything lately, it has been to not take myself too seriously. Life is hard enough already. Scripture tells us that, " A merry heart maketh good medicine " Proverbs 17:22 and I need much merriment these days.