Monday Monday, can't trust that day,

Monday Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way
I will admit to the possibility that I was in difficult mode by then. I try to come across as easy going, but that’s an act I cannot usually maintain for long. This blind guy tends to look for problems once he has seen problems. Sturdy’s staff had provided many to be seen.
First problem: the 4 AM wake up to be poked and prodded. Neither my roommate nor I could get back to sleep that morning. The man-baby was screaming again in his drama queen way, a voice of protest that carried not a hint of actual pain. My routine of calling out belittle commands to "man up, you wimp!" shut him up to the amusement of the nurses and my roommate.
The 4-in-the-f’n-morning wake up demanded of sick, recuperating and in need of rest people became more of an issue when one of the nurse types let it slip that we were woken so the staff could take the end of shift patient vitals. The shift ends at seven.
When questioned about "end of sift," the worker said they don’t have time to do it in the last hour. I asked by what stretch of the imagination could something be considered at the "end" if it did not even fall in the last 25%. She held on to her time constraint excuse and I went into calmly sarcastic conjecture of ill patients prescribed enforced bed rest then woken up at four AM for something by her own admission should be being done at six; that I could hear the staff hanging around the desk idly talking for the last half hour of each shift; and that if she got bedridden with illness I sincerely hoped she would see more consideration at whatever facility she ended up.
I am not a morning person.
In between the wake up and the conversation about shift ending, one of the nurse types emptied the portable urinal from the window sill, again did not rinse it and replaced it to the tray table. My reaction was immediate: "What is wrong with you?!" She did not see the problem, because she had put it where you can find it." I resisted telling her exactly where she could put it in favor of pointing out that if I left it on the window sill I could find the window sill, she did not rinse the bottle, and that I eat off of that table. She began to withdraw, but I loudly insisted that the table be thoroughly cleaned. I suppose that helped make me a difficult patient.
I was not inclined to get better when I heard the big reveal to my roommate: his doctor–who was not the self-worshiped deity named Paz–suspected the nature of his throat infection....