The twelfth day of Myron’s stay rolled around with no flare or flavor. It was just another day spent laying on his back as the hospital buzzed with life around him. He reflected on his wild ride from the first night being admitted till now and realized he had seen procedures and medical devices he didn’t even know existed.
One that he really had never expected to encounter was a thing he deemed “The Crapper Cart.” This thing was essentially a wheeled cart with a platform for your feet and a bar for you to hoist yourself up onto the cart. Once you were on the thing to big paddles were placed under your butt for you to sit on. The nurses would wheel you off to the bathroom and maneuver the cart so that you were hovering over the bowl of the toilet. Then the paddles would be pulled away so you could do your business, and then snapped back in place so you could be returned to bed, well relieved if not a little perturbed knowing that everyone who saw you on the cart knew exactly what you just did.
Another contraption Myron grew to appreciate was “the Sound Paddle.” This simple invention was a little paddle to control the volume of the TV, but the ingenuity was that the speakers installed near each patient’s ears so that they could each individually change the volume for themselves and not interrupt anyone else.
By far Myron’s favorite thing was the boot he received on his first night, which prevented him from rolling over or turn too much in his sleep. He found it so useful that he requested to have one sent home with him whenever he was finally sent home.
As Myron ruminated on these devices and his hospital stay Dr. Lum, the lung doctor, stopped by to check over somethings on Myron’s chart. “Hey Dr. Lum, how many patients go through what I’m going through?” Dr. Lum paused a moment then said, “Nation-wide? Maybe a few thousand per year. You’re the second one here today.”
Myron was surprised to hear this, thinking it wasn’t so common, but Myron was in for an even better surprise. Not too long later a nurse came in and told him he was done, the pus was fully drained from his lung and he was free to go. After twelve days, Myron got helped out to where his daughter, TaVee, was waiting to take him to recover in her home, and ended his stint as a professional patient.
The Professional Patient 