Friday, April 16, 2004

Someone once observed that hospitals are no place to be sick. I know exactly what they mean. To be sure, when your life is hanging in the balance, hospitals are exactly where you want to be. The best of them are epicenters of diagnostic skill, cutting edge medical technology, and Hippocratic compassion. But once the drama is over and you've begun the long days of slow recovery, hospitals can be pretty inhospitable. For starters, there's the noise. Beeping monitors, staff hallway conversation, bedside family gatherings, and blaring televisions deliver an unrelenting soundtrack with no volume control. Privacy is non-existent. Semi-private rooms are usually long on semi and short on private, offering an unwelcome proximity to your roommate's most intimate sounds and smells, as well as an embarrassing showcase for your own. Soothing ambiance is also in short supply. The design palette can run the gamut from beige to tan - colors that might make even healthy people start to feel droopy. I can't help but think that, if we could persuade the doctors to make the trek, a suite at the Four Seasons would be a far more comfortable and cheaper alternative. Five days after being admitted to the coronary care unit, David was transferred to intermediate care - a step up in recovery, but a step down in attention. In CCU David was among the sickest of the hospital's patients. As a member of that club he was afforded a small private room, albeit a very open one, and a high level of attention and care from the nurses. Intermediate care turned out to be quite different. 9:19:55 AM    comment []