I hate being admitted to the hospital.
It’s like every freedom I’ve had for the past seven years is stripped and I’m back to a five-year-old status. I’m stuck in a room with a T.V. (which has awful channels), horrible food choices (most of which make me vomit anyway), and have no privacy. I’m interrupted throughout the day for medications and have to call when I need something immediately – where at home I could grab it a lot faster. I’m also conned into sharing every bowl movement, every sneeze, anything a normal human being does must be monitored and watched carefully.
With that said – I sometimes feel like a lost little girl when I’m out of the hospital. As much as I hate having my freedoms stripped, it’s a relief to know if anything were to happen – like I trip, hit my head, and bleed out – there would be someone there. It’s terrifying being on my own when the hospital has trained me to be afraid of everything. A bug is no normal insect, it’s carrying about 5,000 diseases that with one small bite could infect me and BOOM there goes my next month… okay maybe not that intense, but pretty close.
They’ve warped me into thinking that my holding cell is actually my safe haven. Slowly March 28th and the horrible transcendence of the following days has been fading away and the welcoming faces of Feldberg 7 and my team are there. I’m not saying I now run to inpatient status with open arms but I have been less aggressively fighting my doctors when they try to admit me.
My kidnappers of March 28th have become friendly, safe, faces. I feel less afraid in what used to be the cold sterile environment I was rushed into, and more at home. I haven’t decided if this is a good thing or something of concern.