Day 4: A more permanent neighbor.

So I got a new neighbor today. This guy was somewhat of a mystery. He was some old fellow who had just come out of liver surgery. He was on liquid restriction but despite this fact he constantly begged for something to drink, and he especially loved pop(for those of you in less-cultured areas, that's soda.) The man's surgery left him with a beach ball for a stomach. When talking to him across the curtain, his words were a mashed, slurred mess, but when you were talking right next to him, his quiet voice was quite coherent and understandable. Did I mention this guy never stopped asking for something to drink? Constantly. He was on a catheter, so he didn't care how much he drank. Thursday was dominated by listening to this guy ask for pop, and answering his questions of "how are you doing over there?" and "What's up?", all the while dealing with a delirium.

At least he enjoyed the fan, and I'm thankful for that. I would have hated to have them take it away.

Day 5: The massacre.
The day was great! My fever had dropped below 101, and I no longer needed the heparin IV. My day couldn't have been better. I was looking at getting out of here soon. However, that night my first IV port closed up and they needed to put in a 2nd one. During this time they were also taking my blood every 12 hours because I was on heparin. But tonight, they needed to give me an antibiotic and the IV just wouldn't take. So they called in several nurses, all who were supposedly "Good" at finding veins. 2 hours later, 8 blood-splattered holes taped up they finally called a lady from the ICU(intensive care unit) to tap a vein in my right arm. She stabbed me twice before managing to get one that worked... sorta. I had to keep my hand still while the IV was running. At this point my neighbor began moaning. The nurse asked me if he was okay, and I said, "Don't worry, he's going to ask for a drink in a minute." Sure enough, he asked for a can of Sprite.

With the abject fear of needles completely obliterated now, I managed to sleep for about four hours before being woken up again.

Day 6: Panic Mode
Apparently my blood-oxygen had dropped during the night and I was short of breath. This sent the doctor into a bit of a panic and he rushed me down to the radiology department for lung X-rays and a CAT scan. They had thought that over the night I had gotten a blood clot in my lung- which is a serious thing. Once I got back, one of the more eager nurses had already set up the heparin, and at this sight I also panicked. More heparin meant a longer stay at the hospital. Thankfully, before they even started up the drip, another nurse came in and shut down the machine, explaining that I did not after all have a blot clot in my lung, and I didn't need the heparin. I did however have pneumonia, which meant a stronger antibiotic. I cheered at this, hoping I could get out of the hospital sooner. Saturday night would be a smooth ride.