So I just spent the last 3 and a half days in the hospital with inflammation of my appendix and lower GI. Long story short, it wasn’t a pleasant stay. Although when is going into the hospital ever fun? Being probed, scanned, x-rayed, and treated like a human pin cushion isn’t my idea of a swell time. Can’t sleep in there for more than 30 minutes at a time with hourly vital check ups, lab works, and of course unannounced visitors. Not to say I’m not thankful for the friends and family who did come see me. Which is more than what I can say for a certain sibling. She didn’t bother to stop by at any point in these last 3 days. She lives less than 1/2 hour from the hospital. Yet she didn’t bother to call me or at the very least text me. I mean yes I did have access to my phone with social media, but it’s a tad hard to text or post social media updates with fucking needles in my arms, a heart monitor on me, and everything else I had going on. Although I did voice to text which she knew about through our mom. Yet she didn’t once show an ounce of concern. She had far more concerning issues going on, as she was running a 5k this morning. I’m glad she has her priorities in order. I mean it wasn’t more than a year ago I showed up when her husband was in the hospital with a similar situation as mine, and I drove an hour each way into the city.
And then today. I’m suppose to be released. I had already told my mom what time I’m being released. (she was even there when they told me) Thinking she’d show up in advance to help me pack up stuff, and get the hell out of there. Well I checked myself out, and as I was walking out her and my stepfather drive up. I told them I was going to drive my car home, and my stepdad gets an attitude because I wasted his time because they thought one of them would drive my car back. No, hey I’m glad you’re released, and feeling better. The biggest reason I didn’t want him driving my car home was because he’d want to tell me all about how I shouldn’t be going out of the country in a few weeks because the doctors still don’t know whats going on with me etc. Or how I should try to go on a gluten free diet, or some spill about how I should do this, do that, or not do this and this.
He’s such a control freak. Well my parents told me they’d follow me back to their house where I had planned to stay for a few hours just to appease them a little, give them a little peace of mind and then go home to my own bed later on that night. We stop for gas and my stepdad is like ”were going to stop by KFC to get you some bland food etc. And I told him I’m not hungry right now, but I’d stop by there with them if they were. And he cops an attitude again about how it’s now ”lunch time” and I need to eat etc. I’m an adult, and I think I know my own body well enough to know if I need to eat or not. And then I tell him I’m not staying the night with them like I told them the day or day before. (lost track of days) And again he gets all pissy because ”your mother made a bed for you at the house and is trying to accommodate to you” etc. And I just had enough of his attitude. Fuck this…I left the gas station where they were filling up and drove to my own home. Maybe I wasn’t being the easiest person to deal with, but I hate more than anything, control freaks.
Leaving the hospital is an emotional roller coaster. Especially if you’ve spent a few days or weeks in there like I have in my life. You’ve lost some sense of time, and the real world. You haven’t sleep more than maybe an hour or two at the very most with all the midnight train stops to vitals, labs and piss in a cup station. That’s enough to throw anyone off emotionally and mentally. And what do I get when I leave, a fucking attitude because I’ve wasted my parents time. Next time I’ll just let you guys think I fell dead in a ditch somewhere. Can’t they just be glad to see me outside of the hospital bed and on my way home? Maybe I should have communicated better, but then again, I was the one with a needles in my arm. Did they ever call to see what was what, nope. It’s always my fault. I’m the fuck up. And waking up this morning was apparently my mistake…
Fuck the hospital (not the staff), fuck my sister, my stepdad, and this body I have to live in.
If anyone bothered to see the real picture, they’d see the reasons behind me losing weight, not eating and not thriving, because I have lost the will to live. No one understands me, and the only ones who I ever felt like did or ever would, were smart enough to leave this place before me.
I know, poor me. Who fucking cares right, believe me, I know…
[END RANT…]
P.S. If I’ve made grammatical errors, I don’t really care at this particular time. If you do, well you’re obviously the supreme being here. Let me kiss your feet and grovel in all your majesty.
4 comments
Its better to be pissed off than pissed on,
Never heard that before, thanks for your insightful and yet delightful post.
I read it. Hospitals suck. Family even more.
That seriously sucks. I know what it feels like to be there for someone but all they do is act like you dont even exist when you need them.