I started to write this as a Facebook status, and then realized it's not something I can talk about in a matter of sentences. So I'm going to write a blog for the first time in forever because well, I can and because I need a reason to procrastinate on studying for my midterm.
On August 29th, I was admitted to the hospital for a tune up. This wasn't planned and definitely not expected or wanted. My lung function and my weight were down. My PFTs didn't respond to oral IVs and steroids. I was starting a new semester and a new job. Flu season was approaching. Too many things going wrong and not enough going right, so I agreed to be admitted. My doctor didn't want to take a risk of me getting sicker and needing a longer, more serious admission later in semester.
This was my first admission to the adult ward at Portsmouth Navy and goodness, was it an experience. My last 19 admissions were to Pediatrics, with nurses that know me and love me. Not to say that adult nurses don't care about their patients, but when you're 15 years old and admitted to the same ward 3-4 times a year, people notice and people care. They watch you grow up. They go out of their way to make sure you get not only what you need, but what you want. They become your friends. When I was at the hospital for an appointment, I would go upstairs to the ward just to say hello. I make cookies as a thank you after every admission. As messed up at this is going to sound, one of the safest places in the world for me was on that ward. Some of the worst days of my life have been sitting in one of those hospital beds, but the people have been nothing short of amazing through each and every one of them.
Moving to a new ward with new doctors, new nurses, new corpsmen.. I was terrified. I didn't know what to expect. I also didn't even know I was being moved until I got to the hospital to check in, so I felt blindsided and unprepared. Unfortunately, my first experience was rough.