Imprisonment

I must confess that I am not the best patient in general, but that the events at Sturdy specifically made things worse.
Sturdy Hospital seems to have a great reputation among the people I know, although I never asked anyone I know who is more from the Attleboro than Providence area. Sturdy’s good reputation earned specific regard for the emergency room and trauma care.
I had one surge of frustration in the ER Friday night. When I needed to urinate, that simple objective was blocked due to footwear. They didn’t want me moving without the skid-pad socks or something so didn’t want me using a bathroom. I remember having a flare of temper about that simple bodily function becoming a "project." My fever was at a height and I accept full blame for the flare up. Both from my emergency care that night and from the retina reattachment surgery of last January, I have no complaint or criticism of Sturdy Hospital or its employees.
I’ll admit it; sometimes I can be difficult. Throughout the weekend, , I had been poked and bled out continuously. That will sour anyone’s temperament.
Intravenously, I was fed various antibiotic cocktails. It seems the IV monitor sensed emptiness continuously, and the machine made rude, awakening noises.
I was restricted to the bed by the hospital’s fear of a trip-and-fall lawsuit rather than by my disabilities.
So I may very well have been testy by imprisonment and restriction and sleep deprivation. Unfortunately. Justifiable complaints flooded me fast and furiously after those first nudges.
It took an entire day to stop the "nurses" from putting an unwashed urinal bottle on my food table.
By machines, staff or another patient, I was being woken constantly and always either too hot or frigidly cold.
The Charcot foot was back to maximum swelling and pain; this was the probable cause for the toe infection.
I could get answers to no question.
My insulin regiment had been changed, then changed back and the on-duty person clearly did not understand how insulin worked.
Even after constant explanations and instructions at every dose all weekend, the staff could not get the eye drops required post-retina reattachment right; this increased the prednisone that gave me so many other problems.
My blood sugar was being lowered by number management rather than how I felt. This always results , in depression and irritability on biochemical levels.
The final slice to my frayed nerves was the guy down the hall, the one who insisted on drama queen screaming every time the nurses did whatever it was they were doing, any time day or night. His screams were fake, like those of a four year old who screams out for the attention of being potentially hurt rather than because he was hurt.
Maybe my harsh judgment of this other patient was unfair, considering I am both insensitive and have an extremely high pain threshold. But when I called out "Shut up and take it like a man, you wuss!" all the fake cries of "Ouch! Oooh! God damn it, lady!" ceased instantly.
So by the time Dr. Paz interrupted my already cold breakfast on Sunday morning, I was alert to problems because I had seen problems, and of no mind to tolerate further ones....