December 6, 2022. Madison, Mississippi. My Private Room.

 My room at the hospital was just fine.  Most importantly was that I had a private room.  It had a couch, a recliner and my hospital bed.  And I had my own bathroom.   Of course I was always hooked to an IV so I was mostly stuck in bed.  Right beside my bed was a commode chair so I could use the toilet all by myself.  And I had a good television with lots of channels.  Mostly I rested in bed, except for meal time when I sat in the big chair.  As I did not have a walker with me, I needed to get to the chair with some help with a nurse or helper.  I could function well in my little private room.

My room also had an outside vestibule so anyone entering my room first has to enter the outside room, then come right into the room.  The first night in the hospital was busy.  Lots of tests.  lots of shots.  And me not sleeping at all.  They drew blood four times the first 12 hours.  Vital signs every few hours.  It was a busy place, my own private room.  

So I listened carefully.  My room was quiet with two doors between me and the hall.  But I could hear the outside click of the door.  Then I could heat the door opening right into the room.  Several times throughout the night, my door opened and quickly closed.  The next morning early, I asked what that door opening and closing was all about.  Evidently, she told me that an aide must enter each room to check that all is well.  They are supposed to enter the room, walk over to  the patient to check.  Butt in my room the person never entered my room.  They opened and closed the door.  The nurse assured me that the worker did look at me.  But they never did.  I just laughed and suggested that they needed to check their system.