Hospital Gowns

Before her death, I used to imagine what my Golden Retriever "Wendy" may be thinking when she laid down and smiled; this is what I envisioned we may say to one another one day. You may recognize part of the phrase...

Wendy and I at the park~


Wendy: "I dream of laying in the clover above the bunny rabbits burrow; a nice place in the sun where it's safe and warm; where a hound dog can rest her weary head."


Me: and I wish to lay there with you, my friend, with a Bloody Mary in my hand.

My post:

I’m sorry about postponing another Tuesday’s Question. I've been practicing the violin therefore, I haven't had time to do much in the way of writing. I think until I get past whatever I need to do to get well I should rename Tuesday’s Question, The Unpredictable Question or the Question is…

I like both titles so if you read either of them on a Tuesday as a title to a post it’s really Tuesday’s Question in disguise...or something like that,- Actually, this is Thursday isn’t it? I'm apologizing for Tuesday's Question because I thought it was Wednesday, I'm sorry, for some reason I missed a day…

I'm not sure if I’m coming or going lately - golly, being sick is a full time job...it requires effort, like keeping up with the days and time. I feel I need to hurry to get dressed each morning, fix my hair, find my pumps, and pick up my clothes from the dry cleaners, etc… all hard adjustments for a writer, especially a sick one.


But, I guess I’m exaggerating a little, because the most I ever did to get ready for work was put on make-up and scream at my hair on my way out the door while I put the rest of my make up on in the rear view mirror.

And I’ve had trouble wearing pumps (a style of high heels guys) all my life, I fall over and walk on the side of my ankles, and wobble as if I've had too much to drink- it's not a pretty sight. I hate it though, because I really like how the shoes look and I would've liked to have had the patience to manage them at some point, if not anymore-

One time, I wore a pair of pumps for a boyfriend I adored, all the way through the French Quarter in New Orleans. Although by the end of the night, my date had to carry me to the car, and not because I had to much to drink. Consequently, our relationship soured soon after, which was for the best because the young woman I was that evening disappeared long ago, and I have a feeling he would have liked the other one better- Oh the things young woman do for the illusion of love, especially us romantic types.

Anyway, at the risk of switching the subject, guess who knows I’ve been playing my violin? If you are a regular reader you will quickly guess, if not, read these posts about Simon, my cat (he is also a songwriter) when you have a chance, and you will know more about why it’s a problem for him to know I’m vulnerable. (I also have a picture of him posted with the link.)

I don’t know how this cat knows when I feel powerless, frustrated, or scared out of my wits, but he does...

In fact, Simon wasted so much time Tuesday; I hold him partially responsible for the postponement of Tuesday’s Question. Because, while I was on the phone trying to set up appointments on an outpatient basis, and avoid being admitted to the hospital, Simon strolled along the kitchen counter gently tapping random objects on the floor.

Then the cat looked at me and meowed, as if he were playing Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, tell me dear owner which item will go...

Then I resorted to his level, “You evil little monster, I don’t care if you are a songwriter, you are a goner. The next time I have the chance you’re going to the pound –period.”

Anyway, I continued trying to find out about outpatient medical testing because according to my mother, I’m too hardheaded to just go in the hospital, and she's right, as usual.

Although my mother often says I’m “too hard-headed” when we disagree, which we were doing on the phone that afternoon, with my stepfather litigating her case in the background and Simon glaring at me with a “say chicken or else” look on his face and a defiant curl in his tail.



I could hear my stepfather saying as I watched Simon, “Ann, why don't you just go in the hospital and get those tests over with?"


Good question, and if I would just agree this would be over I thought, but I wanted to stay home surrounded by my books in my blue jeans, rather than go in a hospital and lay around in one of those awful gowns.

How am I supposed to feel secure having my spine operated on by a team of surgeons who tolerate such ludicrous hospital sleepwear?

I mean, Gee whiz... is it too much to ask for a decent nightgown? Nowadays you can have your hair, boobs, face, behind, everything virtually changed...you can be stuffed, tucked, plucked- and wrapped as tight as a Christmas present. These are exciting times, medical science has even found a way to defy gravity~ but not one soul can invent a decent hospital gown, not one...come on.

The hospital staff makes you wear those night gowns too, because last time I was in the hospital I brought my own pajamas and they would not let me wear them, although by the second day I was so doped up all I wanted was a giant lollipop.

And another time I was visiting the emergency room, the nurse said, “Put this gown on and the doctor will be right in, (you know the drill) but I didn’t feel well so I put the gown over the top part of my body and clothes, and hid my legs under the covers. That way the nurse couldn’t see my pants under the sheets, especially with my purse and hands on top of my legs.

This was an idea I actually thought was clever at the time, because after all, the gowns in the E.R were just routine anyway, and the doctor wouldn’t care, right?

Well, I was wrong, about the clever part anyway, because the nurse could tell what I did and she wasn’t too happy when she returned. She insisted that I take off my clothes right then and there, and put on the stupid gown with the butt open in the back- (talk about feel like a child)

Which reminds me that if I have to go kicking and screaming into the hospital you might not hear from me for a few days, but when I escape, I’ll have new material, so do come back, and know I always appreciate hearing from you ~



Plus, I thank you all for giving me what I suspect gives us all courage- the knowledge that people care - or in some cases, they're at least willing to stand by you and fight for your right to have decent hospital attire~ or hear you complain about it anyway~

I’ll keep you posted on my hospital stay, if in fact, there is one~

Until my next post~

Love and thanks~

Ann