On the first day after Christmas, this is what I received:
♦ ONE ride to the hospital at 6:00 AM provided by my gracious son.
♦ TWO doctor consultations (one of which resulted in a canceled surgery – which is why had gotten up at 5:00 AM.)
♦ THREE attempts to put in an IV – one of which ended with my shouting “Good, God” to anyone in the emergency room who would listen.
♦ FOUR opportunities to totally dress or undress.
♦ FIVE requests (at least) to share my name, address, phone number (ad nauseum) for computers that evidently don’t talk to each other even though they are in the same hospital and sign the same form I had already signed twice.
♦ SIX “Oh, my God’s” as people looked at my ugly swollen leg and said “How did that happen?”
♦ SEVEN hours of lying on my back on a variety of beds and tables wondering what is happening next.
♦ EIGHT heated blankets – one provided by the sweetest and cutest young male nurse I have ever seen.
♦ NINE times I regretted fasting since midnight for the surgery I never had,
♦ TEN attempts (at least) to adjust my position on a skinny plastic mattress the ER (“oh, you got one of the OLD beds”) which would have made a great slide for a toddler.
♦ ELEVEN discussions on two floors of the hospital on whether I had a blood clot in my right leg and how “life threatening it could be.” (The discussions prove to be the correct diagnosis)
TWELVE mostly pleasant interactions with nurses (2), registration people (3) doctors (2), volunteer and staff wheel chair pusher (3) , an ultra sound technician, and delightful janitor.
Stay tuned for The Day after Christmas – Part 2: A hospital stay can be the perfect time for training in spiritual formation!