I’ve been in hospital enough times in my life to know that literally nothing is sacred. Any notions you had of privacy or being a person who liked to keep to yourself, just have to fly out the window as you are crammed into a room with strangers – all of whom have things wrong with them.
Over the years I’ve had to listen to the results of enemas going badly wrong, a woman who couldn’t stop farting like a friggin AK-47 (I was beside her on a trolley in A&E for what seemed like eternity), seen way too many shriveled old arses and heard the intimate and deeply personal accounts of many, many people’s arse boil, gynecological and bowel-related histories.
With nothing but a curtain to separate you, hospital staff are kind, but honestly don’t have time to do anything but race in calling “Did you do your urine sample yet Mr S?” or “Were you able to pass gas Mrs Brown?”
It’s like an overload of WAY WAY too much information. In short I cannot unsee what I’ve seen and I cannot unhear the things I have listened to.
I’m sure you have lots of stories about hospital experiences – let’s hear them!