The Tale Of L’s Escape From The Hospital Bureaucracy (Part Three)

There were other incidents, most of lesser, and a few of greater impact than what I’ve already listed, but I think you get the idea.  None of it was critical, but all of it was some degree of frustrating . . . to the staff as well as to us.  They really were doing their best, but when you’re doing a juggling act consisting of a flaming torch, an egg, a chainsaw, a baby, and a silk handkerchief, if you have to drop something, you drop the handkerchief.  Simple as that.

In other words, I assure you that none of these problems stemmed from the staff being underworked and overpaid, and given the red tape draped, constant state of emergency conditions they were working under, the level of care they gave was exemplary.  I know that now, and I knew that then . . . but that didn’t make the literal headache I woke up with and couldn’t shake that final day in the hospital any better.  In fact, the words that should have been a beacon of hope, only served to make my headache worse, and it is with those words we properly begin our tale:

“Today might be the day you go home with L.”


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