Hospital: Two Days

I paid for private hospital care.

I have private health insurance.

That’s what you do, right?

🩺

I arrived on the day,

sweaty palms, heart pounding, dry mouth.

I signed the paperwork, my husband left.

They said they’d text him with a pickup time.

Apparently, support isn’t needed here.

🩺

After not too long,

I was admitted.

Dressed in a hospital gown

sitting in bed.

🩺

I waited, and waited.

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Finally, someone comes along,

just confidently breezes into my cubicle,

starts talking to me.

Then she realises, I’m not Felicity.

“I asked you if you were Felicity!”

she says as she storms out.

🩺

Feeling a little smaller now,

more alone.

🩺

I waited some more.

🩺

Finally, my surgeon.

She tells me they have bad news,

my heart sinks.

They’ve run out of time; I can’t be done today.

🩺

The good news?

I can come back tomorrow and do this all again.

🩺

My husband picked me up.

I collapsed into tears.

Went home and tried to watch a movie.

Had another sleepless night.

🩺

The next morning,

I woke feeling less prepared than the day before.

I arrived again,

sweatier palms, heart slamming now, drier mouth.

Everyone knew me and felt sorry for me.

My lovely admission nurse saw I wasn’t coping,

offered me sedation.

I’m so grateful for this.

🩺

Back in my gown, back in my bed.

People stopped by to keep me informed.

My sedation kicked in.

I laughed at my phone for a bit.

I felt ready.

🩺

I chatted to the anaesthetist as she sent me off to sleep.

🩺

“Is it all over?” I said.

“Is it really?” I said again with relief.

🩺

I was moved to recovery,

feeling nauseous and dizzy.

Probably dehydration from two days of fasting,

they admitted.

It still didn’t stop them from sending me on my way.

In less than one hour, they walked me to a recliner and

gave me some discharge instructions.

I ate a sandwich and was handed over to my husband.

🩺

Nothing was said to him,

but he had to sign a form confirming

he would look after me for the night.

🩺

I got home to the lounge and passed out for hours.

I woke enough to have dinner when our son got home.

He went to bed.

I took some paracetamol and ibuprofen.

🩺

Just before I went to bed,

I found some discharge instructions in my bag:

“NO ANTI-INFLAMMATORIES TODAY.”

Not the ibuprofen I’d just taken.

🩺

I remember now, they did say this to me,

when I was dizzy, nauseous and couldn’t walk on my own.

Why wasn’t my husband given my discharge instructions?

🩺

They put my life in danger.

They caused me two days of anxiety.

🩺

I’m left wondering:

Why did I pay for this service?

I could have had it for free

in a public hospital.