Two years ago, I was in rehab after my second knee replacement. And you know, I quite liked it! It was sparsely populated, so the nurses weren’t overworked and happy to help. Relatives and friends occasionally dropped by with candy and flowers (“Poor Susie, she’s in the hospital for Christmas!”) but I got to sit in my recliner and read, while people brought me pain pills and meals. Not too shabby!
I’ve got a broken heart
After my stroke in 2008, I spent 20 days in the hospital and then almost two months in acute rehab. It was amazing. They wheeled me in on a gurney and I walked out with the same quad-cane I still use all of these years later. I pretty much owe my life, or at least the quality of it to those people.
I was so impressed by the rehab staff. And then, on one of the last days I was there, they told me the place had just been sold to a private equity firm and the staff would be cut by 50%. The nurses I liked best were on the phone, calling around for jobs. “It doesn’t matter whether I’m laid off,” one told me. “I can’t do my job if they cut all these other people.”