I'm starting to think NYU had it wrong when they designed this hospital. The building is huge but each room is tiny and each day here feels like a WEEK.
My parents arrived in the morning after rounds. They crowded into my half of the room for only minutes before the space dissolved and my dad took the paper to the waiting room. He also stepped out to get me a computer charger, as I believed death would become me if I didn't have Twitter to check. My mom fetched me Gatorade and actually tried to change my shirt for me before I reminded her that I’m 24, not 3. They stayed for most of the day until I got cranky and told them to go home.
I wasn't in the mood for visitors to due to the fact that I look like I got some "work" done down in South America, but I had Meghan come by anyway. She’s good company and she promised to bring Chinese food. We've been friends since before I discovered eyeliner and hair straighteners, so she's seen me in far, far uglier states. She stayed until I decided to try and go to sleep.
But sleep is impossible in the hospital so I listened to the attending doctor try to explain to a team of residents and medical students what was wrong with me. I listened for 5 minutes before I got bored and cranked up the music. Four songs later, the students and doctors came in and beckoned me to repeat "what happened this time" for the 30th time. (Here's an idea, guys: check the fucking chart! It mentions it hurts to talk.) I pulled a bit of Helen Keller move on them: I didn't say much, grumbled and made no eye contact. Rude, maybe, but it's no fun to have 10 nerdy med students staring at you when you know you look like Joan Rivers: the Prequel.
Later, my rheumatologist came by and said I’d probably in here until the end of the week. Before she left, she cocked her head to the side in sympathy and said: "Poor Kelly Bergin, I'd hate to be you!"
I get this comment a lot. That and: “You're always sick! God, I would never want your life!” I understand the sentiment behind both, but sometimes it sits me with me the wrong way and I never know how to respond.
I want to have a life that others want, too. I mean sure, I’m sick and my hair is badly dyed and I’m lying when I say I’m 5’2 but it’s not so bad, is it? Do you not see these blue eyes? These irises sparkle!
I'm livin' the dream here, people!
Anyway, I’m here until Thursday unless my elaborate bribery plan works on the attending. I keep refreshing the new Hanson music video for entertainment and downloading episodes of Six Feet Under on iTunes. (Well, I was until I realized it's not the best show to watch in the hospital...did you know people die on that show?). I just want to go home and back to sleep and eventually see the outside. There's only a short time period in which I can take advantage of the official Kelly Bergin Mouth Sore Weight Loss Plan™, and that period is the next week. Soon my appetite will come back, and boy do I have plans with some complex carbohydrates and some good food. (Yuca, Supper, Frankie's, Luke's Lobster--I am coming for you.)
UPDATE: I tricked the residents into letting me come home early, as long as I rested, took mad drugzzz and ate and drank. Thanks for all the well-wishes, offers to visit, flowers, phone calls and messages. I appreciate it all, I really do.