Reply to SusanT
Yes, it was for new babies born, but all I saw around me was death, screaming, and chaos. 😢
I thought it was to cheer the dying up a little before they go, like focusing on heaven above or something.
And for a week I couldn't talk, and since most of the staff didn't speak English, it wasn't very fun, believe me.
Oh, and they kept me doped up on the worst psych drugs, Xanax and something else, which was giving me the most horrific nightmares.
I think Google was experimenting with "Hey Google, call 911" because the nurses kept phones in their pockets, and me saying that caused the police to show up a few times. 😆
Then I was visited by angels who prayed over my stoma, and the head nurse was going around acting all upset. So I don't know if I was dreaming that or not.
I asked the psych doc to keep me off that junk, but he refused. However, I learned a clever trick: you can refuse individual treatment.
So they had a mainline where they would come with a fat syringe full of food, medicine, etc., all in one big shot. So I started refusing that and had them switch to pills. Then I asked what each pill was for and refused the stuff that was knocking me out or giving me nightmares.
Of course, the mainline dried up from not being used, and I was a tough stick, so they had to put in another one with ultrasound, which they put in my forearm, and of course, it came out, so they blamed me for that.
Also, they blamed me for tearing off the bag after it leaked, but I kept calling for the nurse, but none wanted to handle the mess. So I tore it off and wiped up the mess off my skin with my water and towels, etc. Then I'd say screw it because the bed was soiled, so I just crawled out and sat on the couch naked with poo running down my chest.
I really tried to be nice, calling for a bag dump, dumping it myself, and laying perfectly still on my back as not to disturb the seal. But after three days, I just had to move, and the physical therapy doc said I needed to move despite the bag popping off.
They tried all kinds of alarms, etc., to try to keep me in the bed, but I had to get out of it; it was killing me, my back was all sore, and I would go unwashed for days. No toothpaste or anything. They wouldn't cut my toenails. 😢
Then they wouldn't take the thing out of my throat that was sucking juices out of my lungs. I took it off and started breathing on my own, and they said as long as the monitor said 100, I was fine. So I started running while on my back, the nurses came and tried to hold me down to put the thing back into my throat, and I would fight them off. They threatened to call the police, and I said go ahead, do it! Jail is better than this torture.
They decided to take me out of ICU and into recovery when I lied and said I've been eating ice cubes for the last week. 😆
So yeah, it was no walk in the park surgery for me. It was like they didn't want to let me go. They finally stationed a nurse outside my door 24/7 because I would get up at night and crawl down the hall trying to escape.
They kept me hooked up to a heart rate monitor, and I said, what about a portable unit? After that, things went better; I would crawl into a rolling chair and push myself around, use the sink, and try to be active. They said if I rolled myself out of my room without permission, they would take the chair away, so I complied, but I would go to the door and look down the halls anyway just to see something.
So yeah, speaking of horrible hospital experiences, I had one, right here in the good old USA. 🙄