If I Ruled the World

 

Move over Romney & Obama, I'm ready to take charge. Health Care reform? Nah. Hospital Room reform? You betcha. (Yep, referencing 3 political figures and it's not even 10am. It's gonna be a wild Wednesday.)

Not sure if you've heard, but we're kinda hospital royalty around here. I walk the halls a few times a day, giving high-fives to the RNs, the OTs, the CNAs and the PTs. Hey Tom, how'd Mrs. Smith's hip replacement go? Was the magician the perfect touch for the twins' birthday party, Sally? Did that blind date like the restaurant we suggested, Adam?  While we've become fast friends with some of the nursing staff and permanent pen-pals with a few of the housekeepers, there are a few changes I'd make ASAP if I was in a position of power.

1. The decor: Pretty sure the hospital designer was color blind (or they neglected to hire a hospital designer. Note to President self: pass a fluff bill in order to add hospital designers as a pork-barrel spending item). Every room is gray with a side of beige, or tan with a sprinkling of cream. And while I get the "calming effect" of neutral colors, there's something to be said about the "happy effect" bright yellows and fuchsia have on people.

2. The beds: I'm not asking for Tempurpedic Clouds in every room, but those memory foam knock-offs from Costco are reasonably priced. They'd do wonders for the crick in my neck and the sharp pain in my back after suffering through a few nights on the cement-like cots.

3. The hospital gowns: If they are going to force men to wear booty-exposing dresses, at least man them up a bit. Throw a John Deer tractor on there or a few monster trucks. And for the ladies, perhaps something a bit more form fitting and less, well, hideous. Have they not heard of color blocking?

4. The food: Since we are paying cruise ship prices to stay at the Hotel St. Luke's, is it too much to demand cruise ship cuisine? I don't think a midnight Mexican buffet is out of the question. And a 24-hr ice cream bar should be a given.

5. The toilet paper: It's called Charmin people. This toilet paper snob would forfeit all other requests if they'd just get on board with the little white 3-ply, squares of heaven.

ps. Our patient has had it rough since his surgery. Lots of pain. Little rest. Throw in some numbness and extreme swelling, and the poor boy is wildly uncomfortable. But they are hoping a blood transfusion this morning will turn things around. And despite these depressingly drab walls, we're feeling optimistic.