I’m sitting here writing a book on how to write better software using functional programming techniques, then I go to the Boulder Community Hospital website to pay my bill (powered by chase.com), and they don’t tell you how much you owe, you’re just supposed to type in how much you think you owe. It’s like calling Kramer on Seinfeld to get a list of movies: “Why don’t you just tell me where you want to see the movie?” *crazy*
Got to spend my afternoon at The University of Colorado Hospital. Glad to see they are well rated.
I wake up at 3:40am, hearing something dripping. I follow the sound around the new apartment until I find that it’s coming from the refrigerator. Looking around, I don’t see any water on the floor, inside the refrigerator compartment, or in the freezer. My guess is that this is what it sounds like when it defrosts. I have a sip of water and go back to bed.
I wake up some time later. It’s bright, so I don’t want to open my eyes. I’m enjoying a comfortable rest, and the pillow and sheets smell fresh and clean.
Why is it so bright? I haven’t been here long, but I know that the Sun rises on the other side of the building, and my bedroom only get indirect light in the morning.
Without moving my body, I open my eyes and look around. I see enough to know that I’m in a hospital.
I can now officially add “hernia” to my list of medical accomplishments this year. Thank you, thank you very much.
In May I stayed in a hospital for two nights, and as the bills are rolling in, it appears that the stay cost at least $70,000.
It was very humbling to be at a research hospital today. There were so many people in bandages, casts, wheelchairs, missing limbs, tubes hanging out, oxygen tanks, some people barely able to walk, and several people crying very hard in the hallways.
*at the new hospital filling out paperwork* Question: Are you depressed because of your illness?
Me: *checks “No.”*
Receptionist: “Hi. Are you depressed because of your illness?”
Me: “No, I’m fine, how are you?”
1st Medical Person: “Are you depressed because of your illness?”
Me: “No. Why does everyone keep asking? Do I look depressed?”
2nd Medical Person: “Are you depressed because of your illness?”
Me: “I was fine ten minutes ago.”
3rd Medical Person: “Are you depressed because of your illness?”
Me: “No, but I’m starting to get a little irritable.”
Me: (thinking, “If you ask if I’m depressed because of my illness I’m going to punch you in the neck!”)
Doctor: “It looks like your blood pressure is a little high ...”
I always wanted to go back to college, but this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.
It’s time to find out if I have a pheochromocytoma or paraganglioma tumor, or something else that could cause the same lab results.
I don’t think my chest is as hairy as Steve Carell’s, but I got three chest-waxings at the hospital last week, and it is really, really painful. (They put the heart monitor leads on, take them off, put them back on, etc.) Someone told me Mr. Carell did this for real for the movie. If so, wow, that’s dedication.
I ended up in the hospital (ER) again yesterday. For some reason, after I got out and was laying in bed, I started thinking about and looking up different odds: