Susanne was a firm believer in the adage “If something can go wrong, it will go wrong.” She felt this way particularly in relation to hospitals. Indeed, on her last admission, she’d been carted off to urology to face some frightful procedure before she’d finally been able to convince a reluctant technician to read the name on her wristband. They’d had the wrong patient.
On her present admission Susanne wasn’t sick. The previous night her labor had started with her second child. In addition to her back problem, her pelvis was distorted, making a normal vaginal delivery impossible. As with her first child, she had to have a cesarean section.
Since she’d just undergone abdominal surgery, her doctor insisted that she stay at least a few days. No amount of cajoling on Susanne’s part had been successful in convincing the doctor otherwise.
Susanne tried to relax by wondering what kind of child she’d just birthed. Would he be like his brother, Allen, who had been a wonderful baby? Allen had slept through the night almost from day one. He’d been a delight, and now that he was three and already exerting independence, Susanne was looking forward to a new baby. She thought of herself as a natural mother.
With a start, Susanne awoke. She’d surprised herself by nodding off. What had awakened her was a white-clad figure fiddling with the IV bottles that hung from a pole at the head of her bed.
“What are you doing?” Susanne asked. She felt paranoid about anybody doing anything she didn’t know about.
“Sorry to have awakened you, Mrs. Hard,” a nurse said. “I was just hanging up a new bottle of fluid. Yours is just about out.”
Susanne glanced at the IV snaking into the back of her hand. As an experienced hospital patient, she suggested that it was time for the IV to come out.
“Maybe I should check on that,” the nurse said. She then waltzed out of the room.
Tilting her head back, Susanne looked at the IV bottle to see what it was. It was upside down, so she couldn’t read the label.
She started to turn over, but a sharp pain reminded her of her recently sutured incision. She decided to stay on her back.
Gingerly she took a deep breath. She didn’t feel any discomfort until right at the end of inspiration.
Closing her eyes, Susanne tried again to calm down. She knew that she still had a significant amount of drugs “on board” from the anesthesia, so sleep should be easy. The trouble was, she didn’t know if she wanted to be asleep with so many people coming in and out of her room.
A very soft clank of plastic hitting plastic drifted out of the background noise of the hospital and caught Susanne’s attention. Her eyes blinked open. She saw an orderly off to the side by the bureau.
“Excuse me,” Susanne called.
The man turned around. He was a handsome fellow in a white coat over scrubs. From where he was standing, Susanne could not read his name tag. He appeared surprised to be addressed.
“I hope I didn’t disturb you, ma’am,” the young man said.
“Everybody is disturbing me,” Susanne said without malice. “It’s like Grand Central Station in here.”
“I’m terribly sorry,” the man said. “I can always return later if it would be more convenient.”
“What are you doing?” Susanne asked.
“Just filling your humidifier,” the man said.
“What do I have a humidifier for?” Susanne said. “I didn’t have one after my last cesarean.”
“The anesthesiologists frequently order them this time of year,” the man said. “Right after surgery, patients’ throats are often irritated from the endotracheal tube. It’s usually helpful to use a humidifier for the first day or even the first few hours. In what month did you have your last cesarean?”
“May,” Susanne said.
“That’s probably the reason you didn’t have one then,” the man said. “Would you like me to return?”
“Do what you have to do,” Susanne said.
No sooner had the man left than the original nurse returned. “You were right,” she said. “The orders were to pull the IV as soon as the bottle was through.”