Tag: #Freedom

The Great Escape

A hospital bed is a parked taxi with the meter running.

Groucho Marx

I am one of the lucky ones who has never stayed a night in a hospital because I was sick or had surgery. I have been rushed to the hospital after I got hit by a car at the age of seven and later after I had my first seizure, but they did not require overnight stays. My overnighters to date have been for intensive medical testing where they try to trigger a seizure to find out what part of the brain is misfiring. The only fun story I have in the hospital is when I was in the shower and the nurse came in and shut it down. “You are a risk for falls. No shower,” she politely said. “I’ll get your bed bath stuff.” My dad’s hospital stays, on the other hand, are another story. 

When he goes to the hospital there is no telling what will happen or how long he may have to stay. One time with a big toe infection, the doctor put a pair of scissors thru his toe as noted in an early post. The scissors were used to insert a drain tube. The infection was aggressive, and he had to have big Larry, the piggy that went to market, removed. The next was the result of cutting his hand on his margarita blender blade. He suggested to the doctor that he did not need to be hospitalized; he could wheel around the IV stand at work as he had done before. Since that ended in amputation, the doctor suggested that hospitalization might produce a better outcome. Dad failed to counter the argument and checked in. When I went to visit, it was easy to spot his room in the cul de sac of doors in the circular pod. His door was the only one open and without a gun totting guard standing at attention. When I asked the doctor about the setup, he laughed and responded the hospital was full and the only bed they had available was in the psych ward. The doctor who laughed was also the same doctor while getting his MD degree thought it would be fun to get a master’s degree in physics.

This last time was during COVID when he needed to have the distal phalange of his little piggy that liked roast beef removed due to an infection. Due to COVID protocol, he was not allowed any visitors or changes of clothes. We tried to sneak dad some clean underwear in when he needed additional insulin pump supplies, but they had us dump our paper bag into their see-through plastic bag. Caught, they gave me a surgical glove to retrieve the tidy whities.  

Hospitals have their own slow-moving schedules where even discharges seem to take forever. Dressed and ready to go, the discharge doctor said not so fast. He wanted dad to see the physical therapist when he made his rounds and then he could go. Not having the faintest idea when the therapist would appear or why he would need to see a physical therapist he decided to ask his nurse. She wasn’t sure. A few moments later, a volunteer with a wheelchair appeared. Dad jumped in and said, “Let’s go.” Halfway down the hallway dad spotted the discharge doctor talking with his nurse. Dad scrunched down behind my borrowed, flowered bag to hide and yelled back to the young volunteer, “Hang a right and let’s get out of here.” The teenaged wheelchair driver, fulfilling a school mandated volunteer program, enjoyed the intrigue and sped down side halls, through the surgery prep room, and out the back door. Freedom and a memorable misadventure. 

Moral: 1) Every day is a true adventure. 2) Nurses are true heroes. 

Please feel free to comment below or email zsmisadventures@gmail.com. Your story ma be featured on a future blog. 

Let Hope Ring

Photo from anonymous Facebook user

There can be no daily democracy without daily citizenship.

Ralph Nadar

Hope is defined in Wikipedia as  “an optimistic state of mind that is based on an expectation of positive outcomes with respect to events and circumstances in one’s life or the world at large. As a verb, its definitions include: “expect with confidence” and “to cherish a desire with anticipation.” 

Over the last four years, I am sad to say that I have lost some hope and often wondered where compassion, empathy, and love has gone. I have spent countless nights in tears grieving the losses of innocent souls with no end in sight. I have hoped that our government would step up to the challenge and demonstrate that human lives are not disposable. I was faced with the stark reality that my life was irrelevant to those who swear an oath to be leaders and protectors of us all. Instead, science and truth were replaced with lies and hypocrisy. Masks can help stop the spread of the deadliest disease America has ever encountered leaving over 238 thousand plus dead. More deaths and more cases than any other country in the world. No action made America number one for deaths and counting. Our leaders never lead by example, never mandated masks and repeatedly lied about the medical reality the country faced. As the numbers rise and a record number of cases are reached every day, doctors and nurses who are literally giving their lives for this country are thrown under the bus. They are reported to be making money off listing deaths as covid related.  Every time I hear that statement, the thought of hope and unity crumbles a bit more into oblivion, dividing the country even more. 

I was heartbroken to see racism, sexism, and mass hatred for so many on display at levels I had never experienced but knew exists. It was as though I was living in a nightmare I could never wake up from. I never had time to relax because I was fearful of what would happen to my rights as a woman and the rights of those around me. I often wept in my mother’s arms telling her “I am too young to die” because I knew if preexisting conditions were scrubbed off the board which has been a dream of those in charge for over 4 years, was coming desperately close to being a reality. I could not afford to not have my diabetic supplies and seizure medication not covered by my insurance. I could not have that happen to my dad or anyone else. When a tax break for corporations that previously insured all of their workers was more important than improving our health care system, I felt despair and uncertainty about what my future held. 

However, when I heard the news that a woman VP who happens to be African American, Indian, and from a family of immigrants was selected along with a man who knows the reality of sickness and loss, who has poise, experience, and a heart for serving the American people and who will bring compassion, empathy, truth, and science back into the People’s House, I exhaled a deep sigh of relief. I cried tears of joy because I dared to hope again. I felt hope in my fellow Americans that we can prevail when we unite. I was hopeful that despite our differences we could find common ground to show that deep down we are a kind, loving, compassionate, and soulful nation. We remember where we came from and what we stand for: Moral courage, inclusiveness, freedom of the press, freedom of speech, opportunity, and tolerance. We may not always agree with each other, but I was starting to feel hopeful that we were working on making changes towards being more tolerant and respectful of one another. I know that Hope is usually a dream, but today of all days, I will bask in it and hold strong to it. Without hope, there is no future. 

Moral: 1) Every vote counts. 2) Work hard every day. 3) Your life is essential, and our leaders should do all that is necessary to protect it. 

Thank you for reading my blog. I understand it may offend some, but just know that I work daily with the developmentally disabled who need the government’s help to survive and your understanding and support. Feel free to leave a comment below or at zsmisadventures@gmail.com.