My mom is in the hospital. She went in five days ago, on Saturday, with symptoms of pneumonia. It’s not been a stay without worries of complications. She’s uncomfortable, stressed out. She wants to go home.
So it came as a little bit of a shock to me when my mother told me what happened late the other night.
My mother, a sweet woman, who isn’t prone to chattering on about other people, got a visit by the head nurse, a tallish blond woman who clearly had an attitude.
“You must have respect for your fellow patients,” she admonished my mother, who was dumbstruck sitting in the bed against he window.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” my mother said.
“Your roommate said you were talking about her and her grandchildren,” said the head nurse, who clearly assumed my mother was in the wrong.
“I didn’t say anything about her or her grandchildren. I don’t know anything about this,” my mother replied.
As my mother told me this two days ago during our stroll through the halls with her IV pole, I was too shocked and even humored by the whole thing to be angry. I mean, what the hell?
“Was the woman in the room when the head nurse came in?” I asked.
“Yes,” my mom said. “But she’s gone now, they moved her in the middle of the night.”
I was dying to get to the bottom of this and kept my eye out for the head nurse as we made another swing past the nursing station.
“She didn’t believe me,” my mom said. “She was rather rude.”
My mother didn’t seem overly upset by this whole thing. Just somewhat stunned.
I figured one of three things.
The patient was paranoid.
The head nurse was delusional.
My mother had a hallucination.
Since I’m quite sure my mother did not hallucinate, and the head nurse is unlikely to be delusional, I put the blame on the patient.
What gets me is why the head nurse would automatically assume my mother was in the wrong and would chastise her like a unruly child.
As if it's not bad enough she’s been in the hospital for almost a week.