My roomie has quite the full dance card here on the 3rd floor in bed D. Her entourage is back and it appears they are very angry about the email her mom didn’t get from the contractor. So angry that they need to shout on the phone about the missing email Godammit.
Her vomiting continued through the night much to my chagrin. (I am, after all, a mere 10 feet away from her separated by a curtain.)
The nurses must assume as BFFs we don’t keep secrets from each other because they make no effort to be discreet.
“Good news Ms. A!” they gleefully shout at 11:00 pm in order to guarantee I’m within earshot too, “We’ve found more fresh wipes for you!”
Oh good news indeed.
“Ms. Ginsburg, when was the last time you had a bowel movement?” they announce over the loudspeaker. “And was everything okay when you did?”
I shouldn’t feel embarrassed. After all, Ms. A and I are thick as thieves. I love hearing her moan and groan and whimper at 2:00 am and hear everything while she pees in a bedpan and the nurse cleans her up. This is bonding. And I’m loving every minute.
2nd bag of antibiotics Administered. 2 down, 2 more to go. I get a new one every 12 hours.