The Pickle (Lover) Has Landed

By Jan Chait Pickles. Yum. Sweet pickles. Dill pickles. Bread and butter pickles. Half sours. Pickled eggs, pickled garlic, and pickled okra (not all at the same time). Yep. I'm home. Got back last Friday afternoon. My refrigerator already had pickles in it — although not all of the above. It will, by the end of the week, have pickled eggs in it, however. One of my nurses told me he'd never seen a pickle on a patient's tray at the hospital I was in. Then why do they put pickles on the menu? Why do hospitals do a lot of things? I had to request a chair so I could stop lounging around in bed and sit like a grown-up. Some complete strangers changed medications my docs and I had spent a lot of time choosing to get just the right drugs and dosages. The basal rates, insulin-to-carbohydrate ratio, and correction factors on my pump were changed. I was in a very tiny room with a half-bath I couldn't get into, so I requested a potty chair. It came up seven hours later. Can anybody out there hold it for seven hours? I can't. The chair didn't have anything on it to "go" into, anyway. My husband asked why, if I was having respiratory problems, wasn't a pulmonologist called in. "Oh, I feel confident I can handle that," the doc said. I was then told to have my CPAP machine overnighted, and then take it to this place out of our way to have the CPAP converted to a BiPAP. You can't do that. So much for he knew what to do. They didn't want me to drive home (actually, my husband drove) ...
Source: Diabetes Self-Management - Category: Diabetes Authors: Source Type: blogs