As I mentioned last week, a good friend of mine went into the hospital on Tuesday for major surgery. (You know it’s major when they want you to stay there for five whole days.) Thankfully, his recovery is going well so far, but he knows as well as I do that has as much to with the medical care he’s received as it does with this fact: When you’re in the hospital, you have to be your own health advocate.
Now, I don’t actually know this from personal experience (knock wood). The only time I’ve ever been technically admitted into a hospital as a patient was when, as a 13-year-old, I sliced my ring finger open with a Swiss Army knife as I was attempting to cut something (maybe a piece of tape?) for my then three-year-old niece. Why the hell didn’t I just use a pair of not-so-sharp scissors? I guess my answer is: I was 13. I remember getting six or seven stitches (haven’t had any since, knock wood again), but I don’t remember any part of my ER visit requiring either myself or whichever guardian was with me at the time to act as my health advocate. (I don’t imagine the hospital staffers would’ve listened to much of anything a sullen tween would’ve had to say, anyway.) More »