The Hospital Saga

I’m not sure which is scarier: the multi-thousand dollar hospital bill I’m about to owe (as one of the uninsured masses) or the fact that, twice a day for the next week, I have to inject a substance made from the mucous of pig intestines into myself at about $60 a pop. I like pork, but jeez…

This is the story of my unexpected 48-hour trip to the hospital on Monday. I thought I had bronchitis. I was short of breath and coughing. As it turned out, I had an enlarged heart which was beating erratically at two to three times its normal rate and I needed to go the emergency room. Immediately.

I’ve never been admitted to a hospital before, and I have to say that for a first time, California Pacific is a good one. Everyone was really nice and helpful and was always mindful of cost, without sacrificing care. I had one doctor who even offered to waive his fee.

But hospitals suck. The food sucks, the waiting around sucks, and the fact that I came without jammies REALLY sucked. The doctors and nurses were really nice (even if none of them were cute) and the Cartoon Network was available on TV.

I was sedated for one procedure (which involved running a probe down my esophagus) and apparently woke up sobbing uncontrollably, worrying about whether everyone who was supposed to had signed the Declaration of Independence. That was a little creepy…

Final diagnosis: complications from hyperthyroidism. It’s apparently quite treatable (I just paid for $700 worth of drugs to prove it) but it might well have killed me if I hadn’t come in when I did.

Anyone got a couple of thousand bucks lying around that you don’t need?

Even better, anyone got any good stories to take my mind off being confronted with my own mortality?

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