the TB report, day 1, pm edition

So I was in the waiting room/cafe here at the luxurious sindlefingen hospital and torture facility, staring out the window, counting cars. The counting of cars lasted all of five minutes and was somewhat distracting until I got this sinking feeling.

Is this what happens when you get old? Like smell like mothballs, death, lost your wits old? Because like airports, all people are here for a good or bad reason. And like airports, (my other hated location) a lot of what people do here is just wait.
For what? I don’t know.

And so I thought to myself, maybe after I leave I could come back sometimes and just sit with those that wait. They don’t seem concerned about the fact we don’t speak the same language. I’m sure half the people here think I’m mute. And sure, I can enjoy a cup of kaffe with the best of them and I think most people just want company. Seems like a nice thought, but then my very next thought ruined it.

You’re thinking like you’re drunk. I have to agree with myself. I’m thinking like an overly emotional, way too happy, drunk chick. Its just like earlier today when I found myself creating easter baskets in my head for random german nurses.

Lack of oxygen in the lungs, far less making it to my brain. Christ, its only been 29 hrs since I’ve been admitted and I’m either going mental or soft, neither of which I’m interested in.

Oh dear god, I almost forgot. So I skipped out on sponge bath hour this morning, thinking there was some stall option I could use my posh smellies in later. Not. A. Chance. As in sponge bath is mandatory. Without curtain. I cannot do this. And so I won’t. Ill either pretend I’m camping and use wipes, baby powder and the sink (you’re welcome for that visual) OR I’m going to cab home and back after lunchtime meds. Its 15 min each way, 30 min to shower and technically I have 6 hours in between check-ins w the doc. No sponge baths.

I should note that outside the terrible food, lack of space, lack of curtains, etc, its not all that bad. I have a window now and my roommate lets me keep it open at night, just a crack. And as long as I’m not out of my room for more than 3 hours, they don’t come looking. There’s no bracelet, no guards, no one watching you. And considering I’m strapped back in my bed to my iv, I’d say I’m a well behaved guest at the inn.

And so now its time for fuzzy socks and sedaris on tape.

More to come tomorrow.