I hate hospitals. But then, who doesn’t?

I guess the difference is, I actually grew up in a hospital… well, sort of.

As children, my sister and I spent a lot of time at the hospital where our parents worked. We considered it our playground. We knew most of the doctors and nurses, and some of them would even volunteer to babysit us while my dad was in the OR. Back in the 80’s when power interruptions were frequent, we would sleep at my dad’s quarters. Medical journals served as my bedtime stories. It’s probably why I thought I wanted to be a doctor.

As I grew older though and my hospital visits became more “official”, I started to dread each visit because it meant a lot of waiting, more tests, more blood extractions and more bad news. Even that familiar smell made me nauseous.

I’m thankful that in the past few years, I’ve only been sick a couple of times. Sure, I’ve been taking maintenance meds for high blood pressure, thyroid, and cholesterol but I only get really sick — the kind that makes me stay in the bed —  about once a year.

Two weeks ago though, I caught this really nasty bug, which triggered my acid reflux. I was down for four days and coughing for more than a week. Last Friday, I felt my throat burning up again. By Sunday, every part of me was aching, I was running a slight fever, and I was breathing through my mouth.

So yesterday, I was forced to make that dreaded trip to the doctor again. There was a long wait (again) which I found surprising considering I went there rather late on a Monday. This picture was perfectly timed… a lot of the patients had left and there were only a couple of us left. It was the only good thing I got out of the whole hospital experience.

~ by Sheila on April 5, 2011.

One Response to “Again”

  1. I’m sure you would have made a good doctor. 🙂

    Get well soon!

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