I was initially annoyed to learn through my friend, Martin, on Wednesday night that the Prešov hospital planned to release me the next day. Why didn’t they tell me? Did they believe me too feebleminded to understand? In any case, it was a frightening prospect. Who, I wondered, would be able to properly care for. Surely the three doctors I regularly saw were unable to provide adequate care. Afterall, it was their inadequate health care directives that landed me in the hospital in the first place. During the regular morning rounds, I asked to speak with the doctor once she was free.
The doctor came. But before I could pose my questions, she clarified the situation. I was being released from the Prešov hospital, but I was being transferred to the hospital in Kežmarok who would be better positioned to care for me at this point.
I was a bit stunned by this news. But I packed my things and waited for Martin to arrive in my car. He came at ten and grabbed my things so that I had nothing to carry. We walked slowly down the hallway and then out the doors and down the steps. Martin commented that I seemed a bit stronger than when I arrived. I just felt weak and exhausted.
I climbed into the driver’s seat and waited for Martin to load the car. Then I dropped him off at his office before driving bound for home. My brain seemed a tad foggy, so I took great care to drive the 1¾ hours to my house. Enroute, I called Štefánia and asked whether she could meet me at my house, as I was certain I would not be able to carry my things into the house. She agreed to come.
When I came my exit on the expressway, it deposited me directly in front of a newish McDonald’s restaurant. As it was lunch time, I stopped in. I ordered only a cheeseburger, hold the ketchup, and an iced tea. As I sat there slowly consuming lunch, friend Jay called me from King of Prussia. I answered the phone.
Jay had read my blog post and wanted to find out how I was doing. We had a very nice conversation and I found myself getting a bit emotional as we spoke. I explained that I was sad to find myself in this situation, but glad that I was receiving what I believed to be adequate health care. I felt better after the call.
I climbed back into the car and headed for home. Still somewhat foggy-minded, I remained vigilant while driving. I let Štefánia know that I would be home in 15 minutes. I met her on the road in front of her house.
Once parked, I let Štefánia carry my things from the trunk. I just wasn’t strong enough to help. In fact, I had a difficult time walking from the car to the house. The two small steps onto the deck absolutely exhausted me and I had to sit down as soon as I entered the house.
I changed clothes and repacked my bags. Then I was off to Kežmarok hospital. At the hospital, I temporarily parked illegally at the building and went inside. After a few minutes of confusion, they took me into the office and measured my blood pressure, performed an EKG, and weighed me. I had so far lost 14 kilos in two months, about 30 pounds. I don’t recommend this weight loss plan to others.
Lucking out on a nearby parking space, I parked the car and the woman help me with my bags. Then she took me to the same wing of the hospital I had been in three years earlier. She led me into a room that was already occupied by three people. She led me to my bed.
I sat there for a few minutes, observing the other patients. The man across from me appeared to be on death’s bed. (To wit, his daughter visited yesterday, followed by a priest who offered last rites.) Another man further up appeared younger than the first but with equal incapacitation. The man below me is probably in his mid-forties, even taller than me with a big mop of hair. Yet, he appears even weaker than me. I finally walked to the nurses’ office.
When I was here three years ago, I paid to have a semi-private room with only two people. Would it be possible to have that again? A woman not dressed as a nurse jumped up from her seat and explained that they had no semi-private room configurations. I suggested that perhaps someone might die and there would be room… The woman was not amused by this comment and somewhat aggressively reconfirmed that there were no semi-private rooms in this wing of the hospital. Other nurses in the room secretly smiled at my suggestion.
Like it or not, I had to accept the situation. I retreated to room 5, unpacked my bag, then sat on my bed for period. Soon I would once again become a human pincushion for the nurses on duty.
I did not interact with the other patients the first night. But, by the next evening, I became the person to look for help, fetch a pillow, tell the time and day. This morning, as the nurses barked orders, one asked whether I was capable of showering on my own. I confirmed that I was but suggested that perhaps we shower together. The man with the mop of hair laughed loudly. I went to the shower alone.
The food is as bad as I remember from three years ago. I expect to lose even more weight before this ordeal is over. Whenever that will be…