For the past few days, I've been going to the hospital bright and early in the morning. I was given a ride to and fro by my Dad (Thanks Dad) in the beginning as I was just too tired and weak to do so myself. After the scary experience on Friday, I'm surprised I had any energy at all. I go up to the outpatient IV clinic and wait my turn to get "hooked-up" in the sheet covered Lazy Boy chairs. There are 5 others sitting in the room, all waiting, all with identical gauze wrapped wrists, arms, chests, etc., all there for different reasons. I push back on the arms of my chair to recline and await my "drug". The nurse calls my name, asks my birth date, and I took the gauze off in preparation and anticipation. She hooks up a saline needle to flush the lock in my arm, hooks up my line, turns on the machine, takes my temperature and says "There ya go".
While I wait my half an hour it's going to take, I scan the room. Looking. Listening. One nice older lady is there talking to the nurse about her breast cancer and all I can think is about my own mum and how she must have looked while she sat in the chair getting her meds. Two other men, who have been coming to this clinic for awhile obviously, as the nurses know them by first name and they are prepared with books to read. One has an infected foot, can barely walk, its swollen, red and painful. The other is the same, except it's his shin and calf, red, swollen, painful and peeling. Another lady, around my age, is sitting with her doctor whispering. She's finding out that the antibiotics aren't working on her infected leg (which is twice the size it should be) and she will have to have surgery and even then, no guarantee she can keep her leg.
Then the beeping starts, signalling the end of my session. The nurse comes and unhooks me, flushes the line, locks it and puts the gauze back on for tomorrow, where we'll do this all again.
As I'm driving home I started to think about the others in the room and my own situation.
And then I wonder.....
....do I really have it that bad?