No — I’m not suicidal — I think…
Another story from my latest hospital vacay….
How did I get to be “suicidal” — at least in the minds of the nursing staff when I was last in the hospital?
Had it been something I said?
If it was, I can’t remember it.
Was it something I’d done?
I couldn’t get out of bed. What could I have done?
And I would have had a difficult time committing suicide in a hospital room: no access to the pills, windows were unable to be opened, no knives ….maybe from boredom…
But they were so concerned that one nurse asked me several time — getting into my face — if I had “a plan.” He was so worried I had to keep reminding him that his mask was under his nose.
I was visited by the psych social worker who called my daughter and upset her.
I had a nurse aide with me for one shift. She was going to nursing school, so this “suicidal” person regaled her with funny and not so funny stories of my own nursing career.
It was at least two weeks until a real shrink visited me — in the rehab unit. Seeing my Beatles t-shirt, his big question was if I still hated Yoko (I never did and I still don’t). He said he would have one of his assistants get in touch with me — that was five months ago…
