The problem with being a lab rat is that you never know what is going to happen to you. Signing on to be a part of a drug trial, to test experimental medications, can be a regular barrel of monkeys. Over time, there have been several unpleasant side-effects that I have had to deal with, including losing most of my hair and losing the clotting factors in my blood. But, one such side effect that I was not ready to deal with was a hospital room mate.
I had been admitted to the hospital because my blood would not clot. The trial drug that I was testing had an unexpected effect of enhancing the blood thinning medication that I regularly took. I was admitted for blood transfusions and to make sure that I had not begun to bleed internally. Unfortunately, I felt perfectly fine. I was stuck…in an overcrowded hospital….with no private rooms available. I was given the option of staying in the emergency room another night, in hopes that one would come available. But, my husband quickly jumped in and insisted that I needed my rest in a room on the floor.
To begin with and needless to say, I did not want to be there. But, my condition was serious enough that my doctor recently told me it was a God-thing that my brain had not started to bleed. So, I had to do what I had to do, and that meant rooming with Karen. (I did NOT change her name, because she had NO innocence to protect.) Karen was nice enough, I suppose. We exchanged pleasantries as we got to know one another. She was in for suspected heart issues. She was a good bit older than me and had a few more children than I. Little did I know how intimately I would get to know them…all. Everything was fine until my husband had to leave.
He had never left me in the hospital before…forever by my side…always there…until then. I remember tearing up like a kid being left at camp for the first time. If he could only read my mind…and then…what? I know he didn’t! Yes, he did!! His eyes never left mine as he gently nodded toward my roommate and giggled before turning and walking out the door. On second thought, it was probably a good thing that he could NOT read my mind.
Karen was hooked up to several thousand dollars’ worth of cardiac monitoring equipment that she periodically knocked, pulled, or otherwise dropped on the floor. The next few nights were a blur of being jolted awake in the night with the clattering of equipment, the smell of cold – one day old, two day old, and finally three day old- fried catfish that she would sit on the side of the bed and gnaw in the middle of the night, and the loud talking. Ah yes, I remember it still.
But in order to truly understand the nights, you must understand the days. The days started with phone calls, in a quiet - sickly voice, to friends and family to let them know that she was in the hospital and to share with them that the food was bad and that she could sure use and order of (insert your favorite fast food here, and don’t forget the catfish). The following day would begin with a call back to aforementioned friends and family for the purpose of reaming them out. “Why you ain’t come to see me?” Even though, daily, her side of the room, as well as mine, was full of her family members with which she intermittenly fought. Daily, my husband would return – well rested and chipper and acting as though he knew a really funny joke of which I was a part. Was vowing revenge a sin in this instance? Even so, as evening came around I noticed that he was way too eager to leave again.
Oh and that brings us back to the nights…now where was I? I remember…the loud talking. The nights were punctuated with several bouts of, “Oh Lord Jesus, I got the gas!” followed by more gnawing on leftovers. Finally, after several nights, I had taken all I could and I agreed out loud, “Yes, Lord Jesus, she does!” The next morning my husband found me walking laps in the hallway, “I am being released today,” I told him. He was surprised that the doctor had made it in so early. I told him I had not seen the doctor yet, but that I was going home TODAY. If my brain had not already been about to bleed, it was now. Sure enough, with much arm twisting I was released and happy to go home. I had never been so glad to leave someplace, in all my life.
Although I can laugh about it now, I remember it as a nightmare. I have not forgotten those few days, and guess I never will. I have not let my husband forget them either…
