Last Thursday, I was admitted into hospital for toe surgery. To keep it short, and not gross, basically my two big toes have been messed up for about two years, and I’ve had multiple operations (seven, in the space of two years) in my doctor’s practice, only to have my toes get temporarily better, but then get worse again. It’s not my doctor’s fault, my toes just really wanted to go to the hospital. Plus, they’re crabby. They haven’t kept me from walking or anything, they just look like a crime scene, and hurt like someone is stabbing them with a fork.
I hadn’t been in the hospital since I was five, and don’t really remember it past the ice cream, and the Blue’s Clues mailbox I got as a present, but it must have been a good experience because I was slightly looking forward to going back. Don’t ask me why. I think it’s also a combination of Grey’s Anatomy, and hope that, you know, I’ll just be walking the hallways and -wham!- there’s Izzie, and Cristina, and Meredith, and Alex.
Well, the hospital visit was interesting, to say the least. Check out my 11 thoughts from trip, below:
I Think Surgeons Get Their Kicks By Using Permanent Ink 1 of 11
After the surgery, I woke up, to find that my feet were pink. Like, stained pink. Like, someone-dropped-my-feet-in-a-vat-of-paint pink. They also have purple arrows on them, but that, at least, I knew about. The thing is, though, the pink stuff doesn't come off. I've scrubbed, and scrubbed, and scrubbed, and even used make up remover, but no- I still have a weird pink ankle/ foot tan, and it's over a week later. The worst thing is, I can only wear flip flops, so I can't even cover up the tan with socks. The good news, though? At least my feet are now color coordinated with my iPhone cover, my wallet, and my camera, pens, and Post-it notes. I think I'm setting new fashion trends here, people.
I Feel That Surgeons Should Know How To Spell Correctly, Because That Just Makes Sense 2 of 11
The worst part of the whole thing was lying in the OR, before they put me to sleep, and looking at the little board where they write up all the names of people in the room, and realizing they spelled 'assistant' wrong. It was at that moment where I started thinking, "what kind of back-alley hospital am I in?!" (because, of course, the ability to spell directly affects how well you cut open my toe. Totally a valid reaction).
Photo Courtesy of [Stuart Miles/ FreeDigitalPhotos.net]
No Coffee + Sun Not Up = Me Not Happy 3 of 11
I don't do well without coffee. I drink a semi-disgusting coffee concoction that I make myself everyday before school (seriously. Don't ask me to make you a mocha. You'll regret it, and most likely learn how well your gag reflex works) because otherwise I'm not much fun to be around, because a) I won't be able to handle my half of the conversation, and b) I'll be sleep, by like, lunchtime. That's why, the thing I was most dreading for my surgery was having to be up before the sun has risen, and having to fast. I was afraid the combination of the lack of sleep and lack of coffee and abundance of nervousness would make me an unpleasant patient, and ain't nobody wants that on their service. I think I forgot about the shining glory, though, the part where I actually get to go back to sleep.
Mid morning naps? Best. Thing. Ever.
Photo Courtesy of [winnond/ FreeDigitalPhotos.net]
What, No Reception? Are We In The Dark Ages? 4 of 11
There was no reception in the hospital. None. At all. No ability to check my email, text, Facebook, stalk celebrities on twitter... It was weird, and unnerving, and slightly reminiscent of a simpler time.... Maybe it was like a flashback deja- vu scenario to the hospitals I would have been in when I was five? I don't know, but all I can say is thank goodness for magazines.
Photo Courtesy of phanlop88/ FreeDigitalPhoto.net
The "What Are You Doing After School" Question Is Inescapable 5 of 11
"Hi, what are you in for?"
"When was the last time you ate/ drank?"
"Eight hours ago."
"What are your plans after school?"
I'm pretty sure that when I was hopped up on whatever drugs they gave me, I said I was going to join the circus and be an acrobat. Sounds like fun. Shame I have no flexibility or coordination whatsoever, but I'm sure I can work around that.
Photo Courtesy of [Salvatore Vuono/FreeDigitalPhotos.net]
What Is With The Hospital Gowns? 6 of 11
Why do hospital gowns need to be BACKLESS? No one needs to see my underwear. My underwear really isn't that interesting. Hospital gowns are like those capes you get at the hairdresser, except more scratchy and less covered in hair, and in hairdressers they kind of frown upon seeing your underwear (it's a polite company, thing). I think I had forgotten the part where hospital gowns are backless, because I had to ask the nurse to "do up the back of it", flashing her my underwear in the process. She was nice enough not to laugh at me for asking such a stupid question.
Photo Courtesy of [Sura Nualpradid/ FreeDigitalPhotos.net]
I Wasn’t Scared Of Death, I Was Scared Of Waking Up Half Way Through 7 of 11
In the OR, the surgeons kept saying to me, "relax! We promise you won't die". Thanks anyway, buddy, but dying is not what I was afraid of. I was having toe surgery. I knew I wasn't going to die. That's just unrealistic. I was scared of the anesthesia wearing off half way through the surgery, and waking up half way through, finding the surgeon bearing a scalpel and looking at my toe like he would take delight in hacking them all off. Yes, I know my fear was irrational, but I saw a similar thing on TV. Yes, I know that TV and movies aren't real life, but that didn't keep me from freaking out when I was home alone the day after I saw The Lovely Bones when I was fourteen, and it didn't keep me from freaking out now.
Photo Courtesy of [Apple's Eyes Studios/ FreeDigitalPhotos.net]
Hospitals Aren’t Grey’s Anatomy 8 of 11
I'm a Grey's addict. I've seen all the seasons, multiple times. That's why, I kind of hoped that, against my better judgement, the hospital would be a little like Grey's. Like, at the very least a super-cute teenage version of McDreamy would be there?
No? Oh. Okay, then.
I'll just sit in my chair pretending that the nurses at the nurses station are really talking about how attractive McSteamy is, and not discussing who's going to take their lunch break next.
I Kind Of Like Hospitals 9 of 11
Being in the hospital was the first time in three months, I had nothing to do. Nothing, except just sit there and read magazines. Couldn't study Hamlet because, whoopsies, it's at home. Couldn't read The Age of Innocence because it's buried under a pile of papers in my study, and last time I checked, my study wasn't located in this hospital. I didn't see my laptop anywhere so, I couldn't do any of my other subjects. Such. A. Shame.
It was kind of serene, in a way. Peaceful, almost. Like you just sit there and read magazines, and nurses will bring you lemonade and take your blood pressure every half hour (which hurts, by the way, it's like they're trying to see how fast and how much pressure will cause your arm to break, and I tell you, I thought it would there for a moment). It was like going to a beauty spa, except I think beauty spas hurt less, and cost less.
I Want To Be A Child Again 10 of 11
I know I'm seventeen and all, and it's only like nine days until I'm officially an adult, but I slightly hoped I'd be put in the children's ward, for one last time. I only have nine days left. That's nine days I have to still act as a child, before I'm not supposed to anymore. That's only nine days that I can act childish, and not legally be able to do all those things like drink, and vote, and have adult responsibilities. I want to milk those nine days, and by gosh, that means I want to be put in the children's ward. I wasn't, just so you know. I may still feel like a child, but apparently, according to hospitals, I'm an adult. *Sigh*. Childhood goes by so fast.
Image Courtesy of [Naypong/ FreeDigitalPhotos.net]
Stitches Are To Hospitals What Toys Are To Happy Meals 11 of 11
Apparently, stitches are part of the package deal. This is the exact conversation that occurred between me, and my doctor, a few days ago:
Doctor: so, you're getting your stitches out on the 16th?
Doctor: yes. Didn't you realize you had stitches?
Me: no. I kinda just thought they cut my toe and that was that.
I've had stitches before. On my eyebrow. When I was five. I just remember trying to pull them out in the bathtub.
Photo Credit: Kids Meal Wiki