Weapon of mass destruction

There is nothing like a trip to the hospital to awaken your senses to the fact that you are vulnerable to the weaknesses of mankind.

Two crashes to the ground from flatlining and there I was beaming up at a lot of people in white gowns.

Before the day ended I was the recipient of my very own pacemaker. Although the procedure performed by the very proficient Dr. Irwin was not painful and took only 30 minutes, the aftermath of the two falls which caused severe back trauma and excruciating knee pain, I would gladly redo the operation two times if it would eliminate the fall problems.

As there were no rooms available in the wards, I was assigned a bed in the ICU for two and a half days. Extra attention and free TV were the highlights of the care unit. In the ward the attention was good, but not as intense as the ICU. And no free television. I mean, what else is there to do if you can’t watch your favourite soap and sports event?

The scenario brought back memories of my hospitalization in 1993, when I had a knee replacement. Picture it: the Blue Jays were on the verge of winning the World Series and I just had to see the game. I had my four-inch TV brought in and was settled in to enjoy the action. Outside my door, I got a glance of an individual passing by and glancing in my room. On the third pass she came in, cannons booming. “You can’t use your own TV in here sir,” she said with a menacing glance. Oh my God, I thought, the television police are here. It’s only a small TV and I keep the volume down, I tried to explain. “That does not matter,” this poor man’s version of Gang Busters blasted. “We have a contract with the hospital and no one is allowed to use their own TV. You must rent from us or you won’t watch anything.” With a slight frown, I did a double take and assured myself in no uncertain terms that that plan was scheduled for disaster. I was going to see that game even if I had to hitch hike to Toronto. Not being in a position for road travel, I decided on plan B as the rental would not kick in until the next day. “The only way you are going to get this TV is to tear it from my cold, dead hands,” I stated, putting a bear hug on my little 4 incher. “I will call security,” the excuse for a shock trooper advised. “You can call security, the FBI or the SWAT team. You’re not making me miss this game,” I returned emphatically. “I’ll be back,” she warned,” with shades of Arnold Schwarzenegger. Back, smack I thought. Never would be too soon. Needless to say, I did watch the game where the Jays won the World Series although I hid my little buddy under the blankets and kept the volume low. A day and a half later I was visited by some bigwig from the hospital who asked me politely to abide by the rules. With only a day until release I accepted his suggestion and gave up my “weapon of mass destruction.” Then I rented one of their overpriced units, for that day. If you believe that I have some waterfront swamp land in my back forty that I will sell at a good price.

After I had to leave my luxury suite in the ICU, I was again faced with the option of renting or watching the clouds roll by. After one day of missed soaps, I thought, what the heck, I’ll tough it out. Luckily, my next bed pal offered me a chance to watch his while he visited outside with his family. Hallelujah! I didn’t miss my soap.

Still, I was curious as to the procedure of the present day, concerning rentals. I asked a rental representative about their policy. “You must rent as other TVs won’t operate on these outlets and antennas won’t work either,” she tried to make me believe. My antenna TV and the radios worked okay back in 93, I countered. Suddenly she was busy attending another client and like a contestant on Big Brother, she was gone.

Luckily, we have OHIP in this country, and only the working people pay a premium. If you add that extra $15 tax on top of the cost of a day’s hospitalization, which averages over a thousand dollars plus doctors and tests, you’re looking at instant bankruptcy.

Before closing I would like to thank all the doctors and nurses for their very professional workmanship. Good job, people.

Just in passing…. How can one attendant make so many mistakes in five minutes? At a fast-food outlet I ordered a coffee with cream, sweetener on the side, a tea biscuit with raisins, a knife and butter. My biscuit arrived with no raisins. “Sorry sir.” I need a knife, please. “Sorry sir.” Where’s the butter? “I’ll get some, sir.” I don’t want sugar. I want Splenda and cream, not milk. “Sorry sir, sorry sir.” I was called sir so often that I thought I was knighted.