Hospital Sunshine

 

I fainted while walking the dog. A neighbor helped me home and Rick took me to HUG.

Hug stands for Hôpitaux universitaires de Geneve and is pronounced WHOG with a hard G. I like to think of it as the English pronunciation Hug. It certainly has been a caring place for me more often than I would have liked over the years.

At HUG they did test after test to find no reason for my fainting, but kept me overnight for observation, causing relief to Rick, who feels his medical training (non existent) would be insufficient in case I fainted again.

My nose is broken, my second broken bone in my long life. I have blackening eyes. No pain. It's not like when I fainted years ago and broke my cheekbone and had to have surgery and couldn't blow my nose for several weeks. We had a big blow out and friends from all over the world to blow with me fir the first time I could at the same minute (adjusting for time differences). Of course we posted videos. Then we had champagne.

I was put in a ward with the beds labelled A,B,C,D,E. All were empty when they placed me in E, but by morning we were full up.

It was decreed that I was able to go to the toilet on my own. The WC was next to bed E. The hospital colors aren't. White or beige is everywhere. Sometimes a medical worker will sport a colorful sweater, but it's rare. 

In the WC was a sunshine yellow closet door. It lit up my night. One can find sunshine and happiness in the most unexpected places.

Now, I need to deal with the fallout from fainting (love the alliteration there).

There are tiny scratches on my brand new glasses. If we can't get the same frames to match my white hair (ya, ya, ya -- I know I'm a freak when it comes to responding to color -- we'll have new lenses put in.

My regular doctor has been notified to do whatever follow up tests he may deem necessary.

Back home, I'm feeling tsunamis of gratitude. Neighbors who care. Friends who care (and bring wonderful pastries). A husband who thinks of things like a hair brush when he picked me up along with clean undies (matching even). A medical system that will not bankrupt me for the overnight stay. My insurance company might be less happy.

Yup, I'm a lucky woman.