Some nurse that I've never met just came in and said that I need to wear a visitor's sticker on me after hours. She was very prissy and bossy. She also said that if I didn't want to wear it in the room, I didn't have to. Like she was doing me a huge favor by not making me put the sticker on my pajamas and then waking up with it pasted to my face. I wanted to say that it would look more suspicious if I went walking around after hours with an IV hanging out of my arm and a visitors' tag on, too, but I didn't say that. I must be really tired. But maybe I'll do it and if a security guard sees me, I'll run away with a big fake limp. Good times.
The peds ward is tough. Right now our next-door neighbor is a little boy. He cries a lot, in pain and just because he's scared, I think. His mom comes every day at about 5:30, and leaves every morning at 7:30. Then he is alone. My heart breaks for this little boy, but even more so for his mom, I think. I'm assuming she has to go to work and leave her sick boy alone in the hospital. I seriously don't think I could do that. Fortunately our amazing nurses take great care of him. I do not know how they do it. It's like enduring the most difficult part of motherhood over and over again every day.
Tomorrow I'm going to go to the Farmer's Market. At the hospital. Yes, the Farmer's Market at the hospital. This is Ithaca, after all.
Don't forget: Check yourself and your loved ones for ticks!
No comments:
Post a Comment