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Blood work appears normal and the CT scan provided no additional information, nothing definitive to suggest a what or why I should be here, but the decision was to keep me overnight (already pass mid-night) for observation.
Medical staff member would be back soon while someone, somewhere, preps a room. After several more episodes of the Big Bang Theory, the neurologist returns. At this point in time I am exhausted, CONCERNED after sitting in a petri dish for hours, NEEDING to use a restroom, REREADING the posters about how to avoid COVID-19, FEELING isolated, and WORRIED about Norma exposed to who-knows-what while bringing me here.
The doctor illuminates me regarding getting admitted to a hospital. They have plenty of beds. They line the hallways. What they do not have is staffing for those beds. Many nurses that would normally fill open time slots are now reluctant to do so because of COVID-19! Yes, I understand. I’m not all that excited about being in this environment! So, what we are actually waiting for is an on-call nurse willing to get up in the middle of the night to cover a shift at a major hospital filled with patients while leaving their home and family to - attend to… sickies. It is odd to keep track of time by the number of Big Bang Theory episodes watched. Each episode adds thirty minutes to my stay. My Apple Watch has gone black. After walking in circles for a while, a nurse comes to collect me.
Unfortunately, they cannot move me upstairs and for the rest of the night, so they will place me in an ER room! WHAT! My anxiety level takes two giant steps forward. I sit down in a wheelchair, and we stroll down the hallway past a number (more than a dozen) of cubicles each filled with patients coughing, sneezing, moaning and groaning, or sleeping.
She deposits me in a new, tiny room; fortunately, with its own bathroom. I am told to change into a hospital gown (opening to the back) and place my stuff in a plastic a bag and hop on a “stretcher.”
Time out. Wait! Upgrade! They are replacing the stretcher with a regular hospital bed. Should a room become accessible upstairs, this will make my transition slicker. They assure me the bed is more comfortable. Plus, there is no charge for an upgrade.
I switch beds, tubes moved and reattached as needed, covered with a white, warm sterilized blanket, gripper socks slipped on, nasal cannula (not a CPAP machine) inserted, lights out, in a room used to handle overflow when needed, with my thoughts.
Tick, Tick, Tick, …
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