I have to go there today.
That hospital of which I am deeply afraid.
For a follow-up visit with my endocrinologist to check my prolactin to make sure my tumor is still in check, even though my MRI from two months ago (7 months post-op) was clear.
I can already smell the smells. Starbucks, of all things. Alcohol wipes. Plastic tubing. Fluid bags from patients going for walks. I can smell a TPN fifty yards away. Occupational hazard.
I can already see the blindingly white walls and stainless steel everything that provide zero comfort to a terrified patient. And possibly a need for sunglasses.
I can already hear the ever-present music that is supposed to be soothing playing over hidden speakers.
I’ll need to use my wheelchair because the distance is too great for me to walk with my POTS.
Which will certainly make me stick out a bit, but not by much, given the sheer number of patients around.
Aside from the fact that my wheelchair is bright blue…
I already have a baseball cap ready to put on to duck away in case I see anyone I know.
I used to work there, remember.
Until they decided I was a liability and threw me overboard.
Threw me out with the trash.
That’s what I’ve felt like since that day my position was posted. Worthless trash.
I know many doctors and nurses, former colleagues, who know nothing of what happened to me after I disappeared over a year ago.
The shame burns my face.
I try to hide the tears stinging my eyes.
I don’t want to go there.
I can’t sleep thinking about it.
Why can’t they just leave me alone?
Be with me, Lord Jesus.
Get me in and out as quickly as possible before I panic.
Can you hear me screaming for you?
I’m afraid I’m gonna die down here
I can’t save, I can’t save myself
Get me out, get me out of Hell!
I’m suffocating waiting for you
Cause the angels don’t fly down here
I need you because no one else
Can get me out, get me out of Hell!
Skillet, “Out of Hell”