Kerri,
I was born and grew up in the Chicago area. Dad's family was from Cicero and we grew up in western suburbs.
Hospitals are not as bad now as they were when I was a kid. I was at the University of Chicago Children's Hospital when I had rheumatic fever. My mom kept taking me to the doctor who kept saying to her, "There's nothing wrong with her," despite the fact I was as limp as a rag doll. One morning she put a blanket and pillow in the back seat of the car, scooped me out of bed, still in my nightgown, put me in the back seat, covered me up and drove to the hospital. I was admitted right away.
It was 1961, and the stay there was so awful. It was like something out of the dreary bleak side of Charles Dickens. There were no call buttons for the nurse. You had to yell for one, and if you were lucky enough to be heard one might show up in around 20 minutes. There was no tv and certainly no phone; I was in a room alone and was told to not get out of bed for anything. I'd be plunked down on a bedpan after waking up in the morning and had to sit on it for a long time before someone came to take me off of it. There was a constant stream of doctors who would come in my room and examine me. They never talked to me or even made an attempt to greet me. If I was eating when they showed up, they'd push my tray table aside, go about their business and leave and leave the tray table too far for me to reach it to finish the meal. It wouldn't have been worth the effort to yell for a nurse because the food when it got to me was cold and by the time one would arrive, it would have been even colder. I know this sounds kind of like the dark ages and at the time it sure felt like it. I'm glad things are much better now, but that's a bitter memory that's still fresh.
For all the bad stuff, there were 3 very bright spots. One, since it was Dec and getting close to Christmas, one of my aunts sent me a box of Christmas cookies in the mail. When I opened the box, they had all fallen apart into crumbs. No problem! Saved a spoon off the lunch tray that day and happily ate a few spoonfuls of crumbs for several days. Two, every day I got tons of mail! Every kid from school and in the neighborhood and all my cousins were always sending me cards. Every day I had mail to open and read and feel good about. And, three, one day when a group of doctors came in, one doctor looked at my name, looked at me, and said something to me in Greek. I must have lit up like a Christmas tree! I was so happy to hear the language again and that someone realized I was a person. I said something back to him in Greek and just about fell in love with him; he was young and very nice looking. He came to see me a few times after that, to say hi, and it truly warmed my heart. My only regret is that I have no idea what his name was. I've thought of him from time to time as I got older and would have loved to be able to find him and send him a thank you note for giving me a few bright moments in an otherwise pretty yucky experience.
Whew, I digressed quite a bit! Anyway, I will be waking up on Friday around 6:30 your time, so I will be sure to be thinking of you and of course, sending more prayers.
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