Well, one of our cats, the beloved Boris Gudenov, decided three weeks ago to share some of his resident staph A collection, and therefore led me to spend last week in the hospital in general bleeding and being heavily medicated. We know it wasn't intentional, and love him dearly despit this fault (I think this is the fourth visit he's encouranged us into).
I must say that of all the hospitals I've been in, the staff at this one is the best, bar none. Of all the nurses I dealt with, there was only one pure idiot who needed to be slapped silly. (She got upset when I bled all over the floor--well, what was she expecting?).
One would think a hospital administration would put the facts that people don't order much food, eat much of the food they're given, and frequently have major low blood sugar episodes might be a sign that something needs to be done about the quality of their food service. But, no. To be truthful. some of their meals were fit for a king (Here, King! Here boy!). Or as someone admitted, if I got a meal that wasn't fit for a dog, I was more than welcome to send it back--and they'd replace it with one that was.
The television choices broke down to four local channels, CNN, and three spanish channels. No Disney, no Comedy, no Food Network. Oh, yeah, that's entertainment.
But at least I'm out. If it is true that dilaudid is eight times more powerful than heroin, then I've now quit the stuff the equivalent of 25-30 times; and I think I could do without the resultant side effects. Oh, and if you're going to load me up until things don't hurt, please don't expect me to carry on extended conversational pieces about Churchillian philosophy, or anything else more complicated than perhaps controlling one's incessant drooling.
Having survived this episode, I know I'll have another one at some point in time. I guess it makes me enjoy the breaks in between that much more. Or, as Grouch Marx, famed existential philosopher, once said, "Abcess makes the heart grow fonder."