Does anyone ever really get any rest in a hospital?

Happy Pi Day (3.14)!  Happy Ides of March (March 15)! Happy St. Patrick's Day!! One month ago Friday I was released from the hospital, so I figured this was as good a time as any to reflect on my experience.

There were three questions that I got sick of answering in the hospital and will be glad if I never have to answer them again.

1. What is your name?
2. Do you know where you are?
3. What is the date and/or the year?

Everybody was just lucky my smart aleck side wasn't quite functioning because now I have all kinds of comebacks!  For instance:

1. The Doctor or perhaps Melody Pond...
2. I should have gone with Tahiti. Or I could have just said in a galaxy far far away! Or on Gallifrey or the TARDIS!!!
3. No, I don't know the date, I'm wherever the Weeping Angels sent me!

And that's just a taste (because obviously I'm been watching Doctor Who reruns during my recovery)!  I would love to hear any witty comebacks you want to share!  I really should have counted how many times I got asked those questions.

Still in the ICU

These questions may seem simple and ordinary now, but I was having such a time getting the words out that I was WAY over these questions after the fifth or sixth time I was asked on the first day.  It also didn't help that for some people my first name wasn't a good enough answer and knowing that I was in the hospital wasn't enough either, I'd get the "which hospital?" as the next question.  Some realized how hard it was for me to pronounce February and let me get by with just saying 2014 but not all (that's what I get for not having surgery in a month like May or June).  Now realistically, I know that every person who asked those questions were just doing their jobs and for the most part I really didn't mind (though now I really wish I made some smart aleck comment at least one time).  

There was only one person who I minded asking the questions.  I still don't know his name, maybe I blocked it out because he annoyed me so.  The first time he came to see me was at like 4:30 in the morning the day after my surgery.  I had not had a comfortable night to say the least (I won't go into much detail, it would probably be TMI for most).  I had FINALLY gotten to sleep at 3:30 a.m. or so (and I think I was sleeping heavy because I was just so exhausted and it had taken so long to get comfortable) when in walks this guy shouting questions and when I didn't respond immediately (because I was out cold) he gets even louder!  I finally woke up enough to realize what was going on and said clearly (I mean the clearest thing I had said to that point) "If you will just hold on a minute, I will answer your questions."

After moving to a normal room

I tend to think that I was pretty entertaining in the hospital (even without the smart aleck comments).  While the days kind of run together, I remember talking to a social worker who needed to get Mom and Dad's phone numbers.  I couldn't say the numbers and even if I could I was afraid I would end up saying one number when I was meaning another, so my solution was to hold up each of the numbers on my hands.  Well apparently, he thought I was pretty special because I was so determined to get him the numbers and I didn't get frustrated and give up.  I vaguely remember apologizing for taking so long and him saying it wasn't a problem. In five years that he'd been in his job, he'd never had anyone use their hands to hold up the numbers. (Which kind of baffles me honestly, I mean we learn to count on our fingers so why wouldn't using your fingers occur to most people?)

I got poked and prodded so much during my stay that by the end, I didn't flinch or tense up for any reason.  In fact, I might have dosed off during one of the rounds of blood work (I especially if they knew what they were doing. I only had one person you had trouble getting blood from me, they must have been new).  I know that I was given potassium shots several times while I was in the hospital (I don't know what for, if someone wants to enlighten me, feel free.)  I just remember trying to explain to Mercedes what they were giving me and not being able to think of how to actually say the word (this word gave me trouble for the first two weeks).  My solution when it just wouldn't come to me:  "You know the stuff that's in bananas!"  That was a recurring theme throughout my time at the hospital as I saw doctors, nurses, and therapists (who were trying to establish baseline measures for when I started outpatient therapy), even if I couldn't figure out exactly how to say or do something, I figured out some other way to get my point across!  (Again, my stubbornness in action!)

On a side note, Mercedes saw me for the turn time on Wednesday and she claimed that I spoke to her or the nurse without ANY kind of an accent at all, which she just thought was the strangest thing to hear from me.  I don't remember it, deny any knowledge of it, will pretend it didn't happen, and either way having Mom and Dad (who's still out here) with me has ensured that I have retained my Southern accent.

More to come soon!