Life is indeed a mystery...

dreamed up by a cynic with a slick sense of humor.  How else do you explain that when I return home after 75 odd hours in the hospital, one of the residents sees me in the lobby, carrying my big bag that is obviously from a hospitalizaion and they stop me to make a food complain.  The wristband signifying my status as a patient in the hospital was still on my wrist at the time.  I was tired.  I was exhausted.  But I stopped, listened and promised to address the complaint.  That was my welcome home.

Then again there were moments I didn't exactly feel welcome at the hospital either.  The first 11 hours were spent in the ER, most of them after they'd decided to admit me but before they could find me a bed.  While that was going on, I started to experience chills, a spike in fever and even more pronounced difficulty in breathing.  I asked a doctor to send the nurse and she promised to do so, but nothing happened.  I asked a different nurse to send my nurse, but that didn't work.  I asked a third person help with no response.  Finally my nurse returned, took my temperature and noticed it had gone up 2 degrees in less than an hour and she said she'd return with the new shift doctor.  That took 45 minutes.  Good thing I wasn't in real trouble. 

I can't complain too much.  Most of the care was first rate, except for when they did the IV wrong three times, once causing blood to get everywhere.  And they didn't change my sheets from when they got bloody on Friday night until Sunday night.  And I wore the same hospital gown my entire stay.  No dry shampoo, no bed bath, nothing.  But the medicine was good.  I'm home.  I can breath.  I will get that procedure eventually.

I'd stick a link to a copy of Barry Manilow's "Looks Like We Made It" here, but that would be way too schmaltzy.  So I'll just say thanks to those who expressed concerns and offered their good wishes.