Road Apples
Feb. 9, 2009


Everything you ever wanted to know about hospitals, and more

By Tim Sanders

I recently spent a couple of days in the hospital for a relatively minor medical procedure. I will not be too specific about that procedure, except to say that it involved introducing a scope into that temple which is my body via the southern gate, in search of stalactites. Because of a pre-existing medical condition, I cannot have this procedure done on an outpatient basis like your normal person, but must be hospitalized and closely monitored until the procedure is completed. I am a complicated piece of delicately balanced high-tech physical machinery. I am not bragging, of course, but only explaining.

So I thought that with the hospital experience fresh in my mind, this would be a good time to answer some frequently asked questions about hospitals.


Q: There are a couple of questions they always ask when I am being admitted. One is whether or not I have a living will, and the other is whether or not I am an organ donor. These questions make me uneasy. Is that normal?

A: That is perfectly normal. You worry about a conflict of interest there. I once knew a man whose pastor was also an undertaker. He said that a hospital visit from his pastor never really inspired much confidence. Like you, he was also worried about a conflict of interest.


Q: Do undertakers kneel by their beds at night and ask God for more customers when business is slow?

A: If they have in-laws they aren’t too fond of, probably.


Q: Why are those hospital gowns always open in the back, and is there anything that could be done about that?

A: As to the first part of your question, they were designed that way by the Marquis de Sade to embarrass patients and keep them in bed instead of roaming the halls, pestering the nurses. They were originally called "Gowns of Shame." A few years ago the gowns were redesigned by Congressman Barney Frank and his fun-loving banker pals, and came to be known as "Fannie Maes." As to what could be done about those ventilated gowns, I always carry a stapler with me when I check in.


Q: What does "prepped" mean?

A: In everyday language, it simply means to be prepared. In medical terms, especially when you’re talking about things involving scopes being put up your nether regions, it means feeding you tasty broth, gelatin squares, and popsicles all day, and then flushing out your entire lower intestine–all eighteen miles of it–by forcing you to consume an entire gallon, or if necessary, forty gallons, of a nasty-tasting substance called, curiously enough, Golightly.


Q: Golightly? How does that work?

A: Very well, let me assure you! I was instructed to drink eight ounces of the 900 horsepower, turbocharged Golightly formula every fifteen minutes, and to remain ready to dash to the bathroom at a moment’s notice. Of course my bowels never gave me a moment’s notice. If you were to find yourself, one day, in a similar situation, bear in mind that timing is everything. If you were en route to the bathroom in that open gown, and were to miscalculate by a few seconds, the housekeeping staff would resent you deeply. Your best bet would be to strap yourself to the commode and have your spouse or a really good friend regularly push the Golightly jug through the bathroom doorway to you with a cane pole.


Q: Can we please move on?

A: Odd choice of words, but yes, we can.


Q: Why is it that time always seems to drag by in the hospital?

A: Time only seems to drag during the day shift, when everything is done four hours later than scheduled. This is the time when patients, by and large, grow restless and argumentative. They know when their medication is due, and when lunch is due, and what they’d rather have for lunch, and what tests they need, but none of that seems to be happening. Usually this is not the nurses’ fault, because they are understaffed and overworked, and are not allowed to do anything unless they record it and chart it, in triplicate, and a nurse supervisor allows it. And the nurse supervisors can’t allow anything unless the resident doctor has given them specific orders in writing. Resident doctors, of course, are answerable to their supervising doctors, who are answerable to hospital administrators, who are answerable to hospital boards, who are answerable to their malpractice insurance companies, who are in turn answerable to the entire cast of Grey’s Anatomy, which is answerable to ABC, which is answerable to the Office of Workplace Diversity, which is answerable to the Federal Communications Commission, which is answerable to Congress, which, as everybody knows, is answerable to nobody ... unless you count lobbyists as actual people. At any rate, that is why your 1 o’clock blood work is never done until 5:30.


Q: How about the night shift?

A: During the night shift you will be awakened every three minutes to give several vials of blood, have your vital signs checked, receive injections, sign releases, take tap dance lessons, and undergo several other methods of enhanced interrogation. Things get done more rapidly during the night because that is when Congress is adjourned. By the time your congealed breakfast arrives, you’ll feel like you’ve hardly slept at all.


Q: Really?

A: That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.


Q: Do you have anything positive to say about hospitals?

A: Yes I do. With all their problems, hospitals and hospital staffs have pulled my fat from the fire on more than one occasion. They have my eternal gratitude, because I am very fond of my fat. Some of it, anyway.