I sat alone in the audiologist’s isolation room, my eyes closed, and concentrated on listening. And there it was, a beep. And another. And … there, another.
Why was I having my hearing tested? As we emerged out of the pandemic and into society, it seemed to me that I wasn’t hearing people as well. Maybe it was the masks. Or my ears. Or both. My husband, who wears hearing aids — most of the time, though masks wreak havoc with other things hooked around ears— thought I wasn’t hearing as well. So, I went to the ENT practice which had last tested my hearing in 2018.
We’ll get to the results shortly. Here’s what happened to me first.
Being in that small, quiet room and following the audiologist’s orders brought back an unexpected wave of nostalgia for the comforting simplicity of being a hospital patient. No errands. No to do list. No bills, no calls. Just being in that bed for that time was all that was required. Doing what I was told.
It felt really weird to miss it.
It was a simpler time. Maybe like “doing time”? Definitely much nicer than being locked up, but similar in requiring the acceptance that I was in this place and that’s all there was to it.
How did I lie in a single bed for three months? I just did.
The trade off, of course, was that a big bunch of that time there was absolutely nothing my body could do for itself. I was an indebted, and often inert, captive. But my body held on until my mind could join in the effort. I was a very good patient. I aced it.
So here I was sitting alone in this small room, following the audiologist’s commands, when I was overcome with nostalgia.
My reverie was interrupted by the audiologist as she prepared me for the next test. Had I had any antibiotics by IV? Yes, I said, loads while I was hospitalized in 2019. She nodded, wired me up, and shut the door. I anticipated hearing more beeps and tweets. Nothing happened. Or maybe, I thought, something had happened and I couldn’t hear it. Not one sound for what seemed like minutes.
“Sorry,” her voice called over the equipment, “Got a little tied up there. OK, now we’ll start.”
The beeps restarted. I sailed through the test. The audiologist pronounced my hearing “perfect.”
Despite all that I’d been through, I’d avoided damage that hardcore IV antibiotics can cause to the sensory cells in the inner ear that detect sound and motion, resulting in hearing loss, dizziness, and tinnitus. It’s called ototoxicity. Another bullet dodged. Another one-in-a-million story.
That night, I Googled the question, “Why do some people like being in the hospital?”
Because being hospitalized can be like a retreat. No decisions, other than medical ones. No dishes to wash,no housework. No work deadlines. 3 meals, clean sheets. A call bell.Nancy Walters, on Quora
And, in my case, because these men and women became my community. Who wouldn’t miss this amazing support team?
2 thoughts on “Wellness Wednesday: Why Do I Miss Being a Patient?”
You might not have been so nostalgic for American hospitals. I know the staff cares and doctors and nurses are generally working their tails off, but they are not allowed to have the warm family atmosphere that you described in your blog. You would have been awakened abruptly at extraordinarily early hours for the residents do make their reports to deliver to the attending physicians on their rounds. Food delivered on schedule, not when you were hungry. Too much noise to ever feel rested. And always, fear about the cost when you get out.
Yes,the American business model works against everyone but the insurance companies. I look forward to exploring that in future posts…hope you were able to be helped by your doc on Monday.Sending a hug!