A little later, Q'Deisha comes up to me and asks if I got a plastic water jug (any of you who have been to the hospital anytime recently will know what I'm talking about). I said that there had been one sitting on my side table when I came in. She threw her hands up, all frustrated and said “MAN! They din't give me ANYTHING when I come in here. No water cup, none of 'em bath thingy's either! That really pisses me off!” (Apparently the $300 worth of food she ate doesn't count for anything) She stomps out of the room, her IV pole wheeling along behind her. Next thing you know, here she is with her arms LOADED down with a drug store beauty aisle. Bottles of shampoo, conditioner, lotion, gels, creams, cotton balls, q-tips, YOU NAME IT she had it. She dumped them all out on her bed and asked if I wanted anything.(Besides a new roommate?) “They's hardly ever lock it. You can just get 'em yourself at that one closet.” (The one marked “authorized personnel only”?) “Nah. I think I'll be fine.”
10 minutes later, as my medicine is starting to kick in again, and I'm starting to forget I'm rooming with a psych ward overflow, she comes over to my window and said, “Get up and look at this!” “I'm really not feeling....” “No, I mean GET UP. Look over there. See that? That there car, right over there?” “Yup.” I replied, not even getting my glasses on. “I see...that one, right?”, I say, pointing indiscriminately at the parking lot as a whole. “Yeah! That's right. That there's my car. I need my cell phone out of it.” She stared at me as if I was going to jump right up and offer to go get it for her. “Ooookay.” I responded. “I NEED my phone.” she repeated again, looking at me. “Oh.” What, are you KIDDING ME? I almost offered to go get it, if for no other reason than to get away from her. Apparently she took the hint, and went to her bed, sitting on the side facing me. I turned over to avoid her, but she didn't get the hint. I doubt she'd take a hint from anything less than a baseball bat. “I'm going to go down there.” she finally said, her eyes boring into the back of my head. “Umm.” I replied as unenthusiastically as I could. “You won't tell nobody will you?” Apparently she didn't think the hospital gown and IV pole dragging along behind her would give her away. “I'm sleeping.” I said back. She left and was back just a few minutes later. They “caught her” she said. Oh good. They caught her and brought her BACK. Isn't there like a hospital “holding cell” you could keep her in, just till I'm released, maybe? Well, not one to be defeated, she “tried again”. She had been gone about an hour when the nurse came into the room for, meds. Oh, sweet medication, if I ever needed you, it was this hospitalization! “Where'd Q'Deishe go?” the nurse asked. This was the same nurse that laughed under her breath at my earlier situation, so I wasn't about to help her out, either. “Who? What? I have no idea what you're talking about. I need my pain meds. And my nausea medicine.” “Do you know where she went?” the nurse continued (Besides off the deep end), “HM.” was all I replied. “She does this every time she comes in” A-HA! So she IS a “frequent flayer” and they probably HAVE seen her pull this stuff on her other roommates. Man, must be a slow day at the nurse's station to need this entertainment. A few moments later I hear over the hospital intercom “Q'Deisha blah blah...Please return to your room” No, really, take your time...days if necessary.
Well, about 20 minutes later Q'Deisha came back inside and over to my side of the bed. She CLOSED the curtain separating our beds, however she was still on my side. “Man, there was this security guard who don't know what he talkin' about. He thinks he saw me all goin to take a smoke, but he don' know WHAT he talkin' about. Man! I just going to get my cell phone and he all callin' up to the nurses station like I been' doin' something wrong! Hey, smell my hands. I'm right handed, so if I smoked, I'd smoked 'em with this hand, they don't smell like smoke do they?” she demanded shoving her right hand under my nose. I've had a great fear of smelling hands after having several kids shoving their “just down their pants” hands under my nose. I wasn't too thrilled to be smelling hers either. “Nope. They don't smell like smoke.” I said. She seemed satisfied. “See! I's told 'em! Smell these too!” she said, obviously feeling more confident, and shoving her left hand under my nose. “OH YEAH! Those smell like smoke!” I replied. “Well, he couldn've seen that I was smokin' and he has NO RIGHT to blame me for smokin' we he DON'T KNOW if I was smokin' or NOT!” She threw the curtain back with all of it's maddening screeching (now becoming one of her trademark moves) and starts SCREAMING at no one about how unjustly she's being treated. She picked her phone up and called...someone...and starts ranting and raving about how they're blaming her for smoking when they don't even know if she was...blah..blah...blah (or I should say BLAH!!!!BLAH!!!!BLAH!!!! which was more like it). I mean she was SCREAMING at this point. She called the nurses in and was crying and ranting and demanding to see her doctor about this injustice. In the meantime, I was laying in my bed preparing my simple, but effective speech, and getting my nerves up for when she asked me if she was out smoking. I was all ready “Absolutely you were. Told me where you were going, and even had me smell your hands when you got back. Smooooooking. Yep, you sure were.” Apparently, I had enough drugs in my system to be brave and truthful. Unfortunately, she never gave me the chance. She called her doctor in (who ever knew that there were doctors without spines out there?) who after listening to her rant and rave for over ½ hour, agreed to let her go outside for a smoke break three times a day. Was that enough? Ohhhhh no, now she wanted 4 smoke breaks, and they had to be at least an hour long because it took her almost 15 minutes for her just to get downstairs. (Well, yeah, if your sneaking around trying not to get caught with an IV pole attached- maaaaybe). The spineless doctor said fine, and Q'Deisha went back to bed where she promptly called the nurse in and demanded more pain and nausea medication.
The final night and day was definitely the kicker. I finally figured out that Q'Deisha didn't like the fan. So, I had the janitors bring up the biggest baddest fan they could find and I blasted it on high the entire time. (Had to ask for a few extra blankets and suffered mild hypothermia, but COMPLETELY worth it). She FINALLY kept the curtains closed! Well, little ole' curtains aren't about to keep someone like Q'Deisha from doing what SHE wanted to do. Around 2 in the morning I woke up to what I thought was a nurse putting more pain medicine into my IV port. Low and behold! It's Q'Deisha messing with my IV tubing!!! Oh yes, my friends. I wake up to see Dr. Kevorkian checkin' to see if I'm ready to meet my maker. “What are you doing?” I asked, rather nicely for someone who just discovered someone else doing what she was doing..which was....what? “Unnnnhhhhh..I'm just fixin' yo tubing. It's all messed up.” I grabbed my IV tubing and said. “It's fine. I'll have a nurse check on it.” I said pushing the nurse button a million times. Well, by the time the nurse finally made it into the room I was asleep again, and by the time I woke up the nurse was in the room with the curtain opened again and Q'Deisha just sittin' in bed smilin'. “You can use lotion in yo hair if you don' have no conditioner, right?” The nurse and I just looked at each other. “Uh. No.” was the nurse's reply. Was this girl for real? “Oh, I jus did and it worked out fine!” I kept trying to get the nurse's attention to tell her about the night before, but no luck. Now I know how a hostage must feel when they go into a convenience store and they try to get someone's attention without getting the kidnapper's attention.
About 15 minutes after the nurse left, my monitor started beeping saying that my IV fluid was low. I pressed the nurse's button (now not expecting a response for anything less than ½ hour) and hit the silent button. It went off a few more times, and I just kept hitting the silent button. It wasn't bothering me, but apparently it was bothering Q'Deisha. She finally gets out of bed in this HUGE HUFF, comes over to my IV computer monitor and starts PRESSING BUTTONS. “Here. Just do this * beep * and then this and this * beep beep beeeeeeep *” ”It's FINE. IT'S FINE. THAT'S OKAY” “Hey. I do this all the time, jus let me...” “NOPE. I'm oooookay. Thanks anyway. Yep, I bet you do. At's okay” Now. I'm not a swearing person. But the only word that kept creeping up into my mind has to do with H, E and two hockey sticks. As in: I'm in ____, where the ____ is the nurse, why the ____ are they keeping me with her....and so on and so forth. I'm sure you get my drift.
Needless to say, I was feeling MUCH better by the doctor's rounds that morning, begging to go home. I knew that I had a much better chance at surviving there than I did in the hospital. About 20 minutes before getting ready to leave, the nurse came in to tell me that they were moving Q'Deisha into another room. WOW!! SO SOON? I wondered. I told the nurses all about the previous nights attempts on my life and the other “incidents”. She just rolled her eyes and said, “Yep. She's in here all the time doing stuff like that.” WHAT A REASSURING THOUGHT!! So, to all of you who might need medical care, I highly recommend avoiding Lutheran Hospital. Or at least Q'Deisha's room.
And so so ends this weeks episode of....these are the crazy days of our lives.
