Being sick is no picnic. And being in hospital is no holiday either.
I had the dubious pleasure of spending Valentine’s Day in hospital. My doctor, a urologist to be exact, wanted to take a nice look at my insides.
Thinking the procedure would only take a few hours, I was planning to spend the rest of my Valentine’s Day on my back, sleeping in my warm bed.
I was wrong. Turned out I needed to spend a few days in hospital to recover from a virus. After cancelling my romantic V-Day plans with my hubby, I settled into my new position as a patient. Luckily the staff at the hospital made us feel very loved and checked up on us every hour. Sometimes others came with food and hot drinks, while trainee nurses made me feel extra special by announcing to the rest of the hospital how good my vital signs looked.
I received excellent care from both my doctor and the nurses and staff at the hospital. I want to thank them for making me comfortable while I was so uncomfortable in my own body.
To my family who came to visit, almost every day, twice a day, thank you! You are amazing. I love you so much!
But, a special mention should go to my husband. He coped so well and made me realise that I need to put my health and my body first.
Trying to make a living and being a social butterfly often put strain on one’s body, and it did on mine, because I ignored the warning signs. Sometimes it takes being in hospital just to realise how lucky you are to be alive.
I will certainly be looking after myself a little better from now on.
Until next week, take care of yourself, Krugersdorp.
