Hospitals Suck.

The first installment of what might become a series.

My mom was in the hospital for three months. For the week before she went into the hospital, she had chills and felt terrible. She very rarely felt sick, but when she did it hit hard. It worried me a bit, but it didn't seem that big of a deal at the time. She would get some meds, maybe an infusion, and be back to normal.

I remember finding out after work that she was in the hospital. I was in college at the time, working as an assistant teacher. When I got there, she was waiting for a bed in the internal medicine ward, I sat with her for hours. She was grumpy and cantankerous, and I was scared.

There was another family in the room and my mom had little patience for their noise or the lack of privacy. I tried to smooth things over with them. I came there everyday after work or school. For Shabbat and holidays, I would sleep there. I would pull two chairs together, when I could get them, grab an extra sheet or blanket and sleep next to her. It was really hard to sleep with the irregular beeping of the machinery, the movements of the nurses and orderlies, but most especially because of the patients. Sometimes my mom would need something, a cup of water or painkiller, and I'd go chase down a nurse. Most of the time it wasn't her that was the hardest. The hardest was the moans and groans from the other rooms.

There was one woman, an old woman, who would scream all night about how she wanted to die, asking, begging them to kill her already. That shook me. I was worried about my mother being in this place, hearing these things. How was she supposed to get better? I got the woman water a few times. No one visited her. When I first heard her scream I thought I must be mishearing, there was no way that that was a reality for me, for my mother. It was the first real shock that made me realize where we were, how bad it could be.

Not everything was terrible there. There was one doctor, a religious woman, who I thought was so cool. She was the first chareidi female doctor I had met, and I was impressed. She gave off this aura of confidence that I envied. Neither she nor any of the other doctors had much time for us though, the families of the patients. They had so many patients, I can't blame them.

Every Shabbat and holiday people would come and make sure we had candles, Kiddush, Havdala, and Shofar blowing. it made things a bit better. the meals were offered in the cafeteria on Shabbat and holidays. The food was edible and there was plenty of it. In the cafeteria, most people stuck to their families, their friends. It was an odd mix of fear, sorrow, joy, and resignation.

I spent Rosh Hashana there. I remember trying to pray, finding it hard, crying more than usual. The scary times were when she was moved from one room to another, or even later on, to another ward. I would come look for her after work, and she would be gone, and somewhere inside I would panic. Then I would go look for a nurse and find out where she had been moved.

I knew she hated this, this lack of control. My mother was so independent, she hated this so much. But we still thought she would make it out of there, so it seemed worth it at the time. She didn't talk much, but we still talked. She would play on her phone or talk with me until she got tired and fell asleep. She worried about bills and rent and I assured her I would take care of it. I had to ask for help sometimes. I guess that's how I learned how to do those things by myself the first time. I'd been a spectator a long time, but this was the first time I was responsible for it.

I hate the smell of hospitals. I hate the sounds, and the long echoing hallways, and how time is always so nebulous. You can always tell the difference between night and day, but never between the times of night. Once the shifts change everything quiets down, except the buzz of fluorescent administering lights, and the beeps of the machines. The occasional footsteps of a nurse or doctor administering the midnight dosage seem eerie. I tried not to cry back then. I didn't want my mom to think I was scared, but I let her see I was worried. Partially, because I hoped it would make her more amenable to treatment and getting better, and partially because it wasn't real yet. I didn't think I'd lose her.

Author's Note

What do you think?

Reviews

[augustus]

No matter what is said, people go into hospitals to die! And now with this pandemic there are more doing just that! You've started what could be a great story with many chapters! Keep it going!

[augustus]

You are absolutely 100% correct. Hospitals do suck! Noisy places especially at night. The one thing that used to annoy me, as a patient, was being woken up tpo be given a pill

[augustus]

I tried to finish this review by complimenting you on a fine write! Well done!