Well it was another exciting week… for everybody else, since I was hospitalized. Yeah, I know, don’t get your panties all in a bunch, I’m fine. And please leave out the ubiquitous saying: “Oh, I just hate hospitals!” because it’s not original and annoys anyone who’s just left one. Most people hate hospitals, and now I know why.
Each hospital has its own individuality, depending on where it’s located, and since mine happened to be in Southern California, it was filled with beautiful people; beautiful doctors, beautiful nurses, everyone was beautiful, but they all share the same common goal: make the visitor the most miserable person possible while taking their dignity in the process, starting with those goddamned hospital gowns!
Ever notice in hospitals they put the maternity ward right next to the cancer unit? It’s because they want the people who are dying to have hope. Hope, really? You’re dying of cancer (that you probably got from eating your genetically modified hamburger, or breathing air), but you should have some hope, just in case, so we’re going to place you right next to the area where people are healthy, experiencing joy, and are giving birth to new life; life that you’ll never obtain again! Feeling better asshole? Getting any gushy feelings of hope yet? Who was the goddamned moron that thought that up?!
As soon as you’ve stepped inside a hospital, you immediately become a commodity too. You’re no longer a human being, you’re a p a t i e n t, which means “stupid guinea pig” in Latin, and that means people you’ve never met before in your entire life, can come and stick things into every vein and orifice on your entire body with a latex-gloved finger and you just have to lay there and take it. Then you never see these people again. I mean, I’ve been fingered by a stranger before, but never like this! Can I at least get a goddamned Thank You card?!
You think they wanna rush you out so they can fill the bed with another person, but nooo, they’re trying to keep you there so they can hear the “cha-CHING!” sound every time they poke and prod you. Money people, I’m talking about money! On top of it, there’s no goddamned edible food in a hospital, so you can imagine my misery! I awoke from the haze of my pain medication (one of the few good things about my visit) to see a plastic dome on the table next to me, and since I’m no idiot, I knew it was hiding a hideous plate of food that was meant to try to poison me!
I lifted the lid to see scrambled (eggs?), rubber shower caps (pancakes), and… you’re friggin’ kidding me, right? I’m supposed to be healing right now and you’re giving me bacon?! I actually picked up a pancake and took a bite (that’s how strong they thought their medication was), and I spit it out immediately (that’s how immune I am to heavy medication) and realized that things haven’t gotten better since the last time I visited one of these places, which was the day I was born.
The nurse was nice enough to come in with a menu for lunch though, so you get to choose your own poison. She asked me what I wanted, but I told her I was leaving before then, and she looked completely disappointed, which I can understand since she’s probably on commission! Either that, or it’s because she’s Filipino and hospital food is actually better than Filipino food! The food is so bad, after your lunch, you can actually get a ride home in an ambulance!
I’m glad they spared my life though, and after I left, I actually kinda missed it. I mean, I had people waiting on me hand and foot 24/7, and all I had to do was push a button and I’d get whatever I wanted. I tried that when I got home, and all it did was close my neighbor’s garage door.