PEGGY FIELDING'S NEWSLETTER
Vol. 7 Number 3 March 2007

YEAH, YEAH, WE KNOW WHAT TO DO

Go to the archives at www.peggyfielding.com to read this letter.

ON TO THE HOSPITAL

When the folks at the hospital found a bed for me, it was sometime after 5 pm. EMSA and Jackie had delivered me to the holding pen (see last month's letter) at about 9 am. I was tired and hungry. They put me in a room which held two beds, and I was placed in the one nearest the back of the room. I called a nurse and said I had heard people delivering dinners, was it possible that I could get one?

Nope, she told me, it's too late, but I can get you a snack, so she did… a packet of two graham cracker squares and a pat of peanut butter. Better than nothing, I thought, so I ate it and enjoyed it.

I had to have an escort to the toilet, then back to the bed. In bed I told myself there were three alternatives...I could die, go crazy, or put up with being helpless. I opted for the first two. If I died, there was no further problem. If I went crazy, I wouldn't care what the problems were. So I asked God to place me in one of those two categories, but God had other plans for me.

THE ROOMMATE FROM HELL

During the night a woman was put into the bed nearest the door. She was big, loud, unhappy and willing to curse the world. Another patient down the hall somewhere began to scream the prayer I was sending skyward. "GOD HELP ME. GET ME OUT OF HERE!" The screamer continued with her entreaties throughout my stay in the hospital. Each time she asked God to help her, I whispered, "Amen. Me too, God."

The woman in the bed next to me was a different kettle of fish, entirely. She hated all the attendants, nurses, and doctors and she never hesitated to tell each of them off in loud curses and rough language. Soon, it became clear that even if the little plump stroke victim was quiet and pleasant, she could not count on having her call button answered because to get to the little stroke victim the hospital employees had to run the gamut of the razor sharp tongue of the room mate from hell before they could get to the stroke victim (me).

It became clear that I would need an emergency way of emptying the bladder or other parts. The potty chair was placed next to my bed and I found that if I could get hold of it with my right hand I could pull myself to it, flip the lid up, and go without bothering the lovely nurses and techs who did not want to brave the war zone of my room mate's accusations. They really were nice people and they were in difficult jobs. I figured God was being slow about answering my prayers for a reason. Perhaps this was a lesson I needed to learn. Death or Lunacy would be way too easy on me.

WEIGHING IN

One strange custom in the hospital was the weigh-in. Each morning at 3:00 am, a young woman dragged in a huge machine, much taller then herself and helped each of us onto the machine to be weighed. I found that passing strange.

MATINEE IDOL GORGEOUS DOCTOR

Several doctors showed up during my five days in the hospital. I didn't know any of them but was very interested to see one of them who was the best looking man I had seen in some time. Tall, dark and handsome. Yeah. Not only that. He wore a black cashmere turtleneck sweater, a hand tailored English tweed jacket, sleek jeans and Italian leather shoes. I noticed all this when he asked me to squeeze his hands. Believe me friends, I would have squeezed anything he might have directed to my attention. I quit praying for death or crazy just after his visit.

The roommate from hell continued with her really endless tirade Nurses and techs continued to ignore most of my requests… and who could blame them?

I LEARNED WHY GOD HADN'T KILLED ME OR SENT ME AROUND THE BEND.

And his name was Dr. Poopoo (sorry, can't remember what his name was) He came in more than once, impeccably dressed, heartstoppingly beautiful. Yeah, looking at him was way better than dead or loony.

The potty chair remained a constant, you understand.

The morning after my room mate from hell left, I practically crawled to my pee pot and with great relief, let it all fall out, sounds, smells, groans of pleasure, and all, in the large space at the end of my hed...in a direct line with the door through which, at a very loud and smelly moment, in walked the man of my dreams, Dr. Poopoo. What could I say? What I said was, "Oh, I didn't think there was anything that could ever again embarrass me, Doctor, but I believe I have found one thing that can do that." He turned without a word, left the room and I never saw him again.

PAULA AND JIM ALFRED RESCUED ME

When the people told me I could leave the hospital at 9:30 next morning I was glad to go. Paula and Jim Alfred were right on time. They sat with me until late afternoon when we were finally trundled out of there to move on to the Rehab Center. Bless their little hearts. What can one do without friends? Jim wrapped me in his big coat and loaded me like a bundle into the front sear of their Avalon. I hated to leave old Gorgeous but figured I had lost any opportunity to see him again so was ready for new adventures.

REHAB NEXT MONTH, OKAY?

Love, old stricken Peggy