Two more sleeps and back to the hospital.

I am hoping my visit this week will be a short one.  This week I’ll get my chest tubes flushed and the dressing changed.  I’ll get my veins in my arm checked for healing from surgery.  And then finally I’ll get some bloods taken.  I reckon all up about 2-3 hours.

I’m starting to learn hospital time.  It’s very different to corporate world time or normal everyday time.  Hospital time is almost like dog years.  I know if I have an appointment at 8am, I’ll actually be speaking to someone around 9am.  If I am asked to register for surgery at 6.40am I’ll be going into surgery around midday.

I’ve also noticed that the hospital I visit doesn’t have any clocks.  No clocks on the walls.  No clocks on the admin counters.  No clocks in the consultation rooms or clinics.  I’m not sure if the lack of time devices is a strategy to try and lessen the amount of complaints received about the lengthy waiting times.  Or is it simply a clear indication that time isn’t relevant once you enter the hospital world.  It is one big timeless vortex and I am at their timeless mercy.  I have already lost count of how many hours I’ve spent waiting.

On the flip side I shouldn’t complain about the hard plastic uncomfortable chairs or the lack of volume on the TV, as this system of doctors, nurses and waiting rooms has saved my life.  The timeless vortex that has quickly become my second home saved my life and continues to keep me alive.  As unplanned and dysfunctional the system might seem without it I would be dead and not enjoying the fun of another silly season.

So yes I absolutely dread my hospital visits.  I still find myself unable to sleep the night before and I have little panic attacks on my way to the huge building of whiteness and heart break.  But I also know that these visits are my lifeline and will be apart of my life forever.

As my dialysis nurse reminded me last week my disease isn’t just for Christmas, it’s for life.

Two more sleeps.