When I told about my near death experience a few weeks ago, I said I was going to come back with some funnies from that hospital stay, so now is the time. Then I can get rid of this note on my desk that keeps reminding me.

  1. I had had a new manicure with bright red polish in preparation for my family reunion. After about ten or twelve days in the hospital, no bath, no hair wash, no makeup, hospital gown, one thing remained, my pretty finger nails. The one thing to remind me that I belong to the outside world. I had led a “clean” life. I was still a girl! An old sick one, but still a girl! A nurse came in to check my oxygen count. She put the little meter on my finger and it balked at giving her a reading. She said she would have to remove my polish. It was fightin’ time, I told her I had been there ten days or so and others had got the readings so she could to. She stayed with it and it worked. I still had my polish. Things worth fighting for!
  2. Obamacare was new. I was in pain. I asked for pain meds. My answer came in the form of a big banner strung across my room that said, “Obama says no.” I told my sister that they would not give me pain meds. She said she would see about that and she did. Of course, they gave me the meds. The banner? Hallucination, I guess.
  3. A lady chaplain came in to see me. I ended up having a great talk with her. I talked, she listened. I think it was the first time she had heard “Jesus” mentioned in Denver. 😀
  4. Sometimes they had “entertainment” to come into the room to break up the monotony, I guess. It was nice of them. But a harp player? If I had already gone to Heaven, what am I doing in this bed?
  5. The day came for me to get in the shower. They gave me about a dozen wash clothes. I was somewhat acquainted with four forks at a place setting, but a dozen wash clothes. I wet them all so it looked like I knew what I was using them for then I used one. 😀
  6. The Occupational Therapist came to show me how to live when I got home. Really! So I sat on the edge of the bed and attempted to put on a pair of bulky sweat pants. Of course, while holding that red heart pillow tight against my chest. At least she got paid.
  7. But the real fun began when it was time to go home. Carl had brought his nice SUV to drive me back to OKC. I get wheeled out, of course, clutching the red heart pillow and attached to an oxygen tank. Now the fun begins. I can hardly stand up, for sure I can’t step up in the car so the tug/push/pull game begins. Two or three people try pushing my seat up to the car seat. They put a belt on me and try pulling. I can’t turn around. (I’m about ready to settle for the “harp” in Heaven.) So Carl goes to the other door to try to pull me in. He grabs my arm. Watch it! You can’t do that! No he couldn’t. For one thing I had to hold my pillow. And for another, you don’t pull on the left arm after heart surgery! Well as my brother-in-law says, “There are some things best forgotten.” I guess they finally got me in with the belt. I’m not sure. We were on the road long enough to get out of Denver before I had to stop for a pit break. I remember Carl driving up to a high curb. I don’t think it was too bad. The rest of the trip was uneventful.

I still find it hard to believe I was not even put in Rehab when I got home. I continued on the oxygen about a month. Then I was off it. I don’t mean to be trite when I say, “To God be The Glory.”

About oneta hayes

ABOUT ME Hello. To various folks I am Neat’nee, Mom, Grandma Neta, Gramma, Aunt Neta, Aunt Noni, Aunt Neno, and Aunt Neto (lots of varieties from little nieces and nephews). To some I’m more like “Didn’t you used to be my teacher?” or “Don’t I know you from someplace?” To you, perhaps, I am a Fellow Blogger. Not “fellow” like a male or a guy, but “fellow” like a companion or an adventurer. I would choose to be Grandma Blogger, and have you pull up a chair, my website before you, while I tell you of some days of yore. I have experienced life much differently than most of you. It was and is a good life. I hope to share nuggets of appreciation for those who have gone before me and those who come after me. By necessity you are among those who come after me and I will tell you of those who came before. Once upon a time in a little house on a prairie - oops, change that lest I commit plagiarism - and change that “house on the prairie” to “dugout on the prairie.” So my story begins...
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  1. says:

    Oh this stirred up some memories of funny times in the hospital. I’m going to share then today, since you inspired me.

    • oneta hayes says:

      Oh, Dear. I saw your husband’s ventures on your blog today. I didn’t answer. I’ve had company today so I lacked time. I’ll run back over and re-read.

  2. pranabaxom says:

    A girl indeed. A fighting, spirited ( did I say mean spirited😀) gal. Nail polish and lipstick are things fighting for.
    How come you didn’t dream about your knight on the shining horse leading the cavalry of loving people to raid the building on the hill? So not a clairvoyant gal for sure.
    Still, lots of hug for my partner and thanks for being a gal with a funny bone ( and albeit sometimes with a mean one).
    Hope you don’t come after me with a stick after reading my most recent post.😀

    • oneta hayes says:

      A girl has to have her boundaries. I told you about my knight in shining armor in my story about what happened to me on the operating table. Remember the angel in the brass and gold? And my King sustaining life in me. Don’t meddle with clairvoyance. It’s dangerous. I’m glad you looked up how to spell clairvoyant so I didn’t have to. Isn’t this your most recent post? You wrote another one the other day in which you answered NONE of my questions. Just called me a name. Is that the one to which you refer?

      • pranabaxom says:

        No, no, not at all.
        I mean my blog posts.
        Who cares about our socio-politico-religious differences? Like ‘East is East and West is West and never the twain shall meet’ , we will most probably take our differences to our graves, or rather in your case you will take yours to grave and who knows where mine shall go.
        I meant about my recent blog post and I do care about your unbiased comments.

        • oneta hayes says:

          Oh, yes. That five thousand word poem! You’re right. I have a stick to beat you with. I can focus on your poems for about twelve lines. That’s four lines longer than I give most “poets.” I haven’t much regard for “prose” poetry. Sometimes I think the author just surrounds himself/herself with pretty sounds that can be interpreted in many ways. He can claim he said such and such but I just didn’t understand. And he is right. I will leave Jane to be your critic. She like the mystery of poetry. But I see she even let you know she wants to understand what your “subject” is. I’m bowing out. You win by my default. I did enjoy your paragraph in which you set the scene. I struggled enough with the Bard when I had to take him to get my Lit courses completed. That was back when my mind was fresh and uncluttered. 😀 I did win two out of two Rummikub games with my family today and I solve enough Level 4 Sudoku puzzles to keep me trying. Just think – I will be playing Rummikub and Sudoku (Spiritual Version) in Heaven while you are striving to dig out of the pit you are in. I’m praying for you and your family.

  3. Haha, these are great!
    I used to play the Celtic harp and sing to the patients in the hospital where we used to live… I don’t know if I should be embarrassed that I did that or relieved that I don’t any more. (*eye roll*)

  4. appamprawns says:

    Am sharing something my friend wrote as well which is also about a hospital stay . Hope you like it

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