I lost the pound I gained, plus a little more. I guess there is something to be said for unpredictable schedules. Today’s story is about yesterday.
Yesterday my husband, Michael, went from one hospital to another, for post-surgical rehabilitation. This was my day, Saturday, October 12, 2013.
Mid-morning Michael was on a gurney being wheeled out of Kent General Hospital. I was left with four large plastic drawstring bags full of his stuff and his overnight case, with no way to get them to my car. I ended up commandeering a wheelchair and, with the help of one of Cardiac ICU’s magnificent staff (and I mean that!), wheeled all the stuff to the front lobby of the hospital.
Ok, now I’m in the car with all the stuff, heading south to Milford. I had no idea how to get to this hospital, so I asked around. I asked people at Kent General and people I know outside the hospital. I was told the same thing each time, “When you get into Milford just keep going through the lights. Go over the railroad tracks, turn left at the ‘Hospital’ sign, onto Kirk Street, and it’s right there.” Sounded simple enough.
I got into Milford, went through the lights, and crossed the railroad tracks, no problem. I started looking for the hospital sign. When I finally saw it I was past it. Turns out that if there is anything larger than an SUV sitting in the turn lane the little “H” sign is completely hidden and the turn has no lights or other traffic control. Ok, I thought, remain calm. Do a U-turn and turn right. Problem solved.
Almost. I turned right onto Kings Highway, not Kirk Street. However, I knew it was the turn with the “H” sign, so I proceeded. The hospital was definitely not “right there.” I drove, at the speed limit of 25 mph, through what had to be one of the wealthiest residential sections of Milford. The trees got thicker and the houses larger the farther I traveled. After the equivalent of several city blocks I finally saw what appeared to be the sign to the hospital entrance.
Parked. Went into the hospital’s main lobby. I was greeted by a very nice oriental gentleman whose English was heavily accented. After several tries I understood two things. First, Michael was not in the hospital’s computer. Second, The nice gentleman was directing me around to the back of the hospital, to a parking lot closer to the Rehab area.
From the second parking lot I entered through a door marked “Rehabilitation,” found the elevator and discovered it went only to the second floor. Michael was on the fourth floor. I got off on the second floor and asked directions, which sent me down two corridors and through what looked like a tiled tunnel to an elevator from the 1950s. No lights, no digital displays. I was grateful the door was solid and I didn’t have to watch the building go by as it rose.
But it did take me to the fourth floor! The wing may be old, but the staff is excellent. They made sure I knew a better way around for future visits. I hope this is only for a few days.
Until next week…..