I have been down on my back for eight weeks, with more to come. I never thought I would say this, but take me to "General Hospital."
For weeks, I have been in "No Mercy Hospital." There is no perky Liz. My nurse went to the "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" Nurse Ratched hospital.
"I know it is time for your pain medication, but I am going on my break. Suck it up." She goes on her break. I am in agony. I ring my "need help" buzzer. Twenty minutes later, in comes the nurse's aide.
Some of these overworked, underpaid folks are truly wonderful; they would get five stars from Clara Barton. Today, I have the "I hate my job, I hate you, I do not want to be here" nurse's aides. I do not blame them. They have to change soiled diapers, clean up vomit, change beds, lift up over 200-pound patients and do the laundry. I would not be chipper either.
The nurse's aide who came in my room gave me the "What do you want now?" look.
"I need my medication."
"I will tell your nurse."
Oh, no. An hour later, the nurse sashays in.
"What do you want?"
"My pain medication."