[Here, at last is my description of the visit to the hospital. while you read this please remember this is a military hospital. Most of the caregivers were either enlisted men and women (corpsmen) or junior officers (nurses). These are the facilities provided to our soldiers and sailors.]

Last weekend, a three day weekend, mind, I got sick. It had to be flu. I had aches and pains, fever, chest congestion, etc. I dosed myself with Nyquil, the good green stuff, and aspirin. By Tuesday my temperature reached 103 so I headed for the emergency room at the Navy Hospital to get some stronger medicine. They weren't busy and took me right in. They asked me a mess of questions, took vital signs, hooked me up to a monitor, ran an EKG, listened to my lungs, sent me upstairs for a chest x-ray, grabbed the pictures when I got back and then said they needed some blood.

The young corpsman who came to take the blood sat down next to the gurney with his basket of supplies and tried to make conversation. He was manipulating my hand. and commented that he was going to insert an IV connection. On my other side another corpsman was manipulating my other hand. He said he needed some blood for a culture. I asked why he didn't take it from the left hand and he mumbled something about not needing much. I think he was taking advantage of the opportunity to stick someone with needles.

On my left the insertion of the IV connection became very painful but the corpsman finished quickly. Then I felt a seizure coming on. I squirmed in pain, feeling sick all over, and told them what was going to happen next. I don't think they believed me. I got the usual BS about taking deep breaths. Then I slipped into the floating dream state, oblivious to the world.

When I came out of it again I was halfway down the hall, wheeling fast as a crowd of medical people shouted things at each other. Someone was trying to ask me questions that amounted to, "Are you confused?" What did he expect me to say, "Oh no, I usually find myself on a gurney while medical people shout things at each other. This is a normal state for me."?

They got me into a bright room where they cut my Roll & Go T-shirt off. I tried to stop them but it was like Officer Obie in Alice's Restaurant. They had all this medical gear lying around and this was their chance to use it. They hooked me up to oxygen too.

I waited in that room for a long time. Finally a doctor came in to tell me they thought I had pneumonia and that I would be kept at the hospital for a couple of days. After another interminable wait and many more forms (Did I mention the forms?) they dragged me upstairs to my "room".

They had trouble maneuvering the gurney down the hall, through the doors, and into and out of the elevator. When we got to the ward the Nurse in charge, a young Navy Officer, pointed to a door next to the nurses station. They had to negotiate a difficult u-turn to get into the door. My impression on entering the room was that it was entered through the nurses' bathroom. I may have been confused. When they finally released me I saw it was a hallway with a sink for washing hands.

The room itself was everything I would have expected an upscale hospital room would be… if I was in a third world country. The walls were dingy, there was a hole in one of the walls at point, a tangle of bedside tables occupied one corner, and the TV did not work. They slid a battered night stand over next to my bed and moved the phone close enough to reach. The telephone was designed to hang on the wall so the hand piece kept sliding out of it's cradle because it sat at an odd angle.

The TV was not hooked up to cable but did have a VCR built into it. It was mounted high on the wall but the curtain tracks for the privacy curtains were in the way and made it impossible to turn the screen so I could see it from where I lay. Next day when they brought me some video tapes I found that the tapes and the boxes they were in did not match.

So, there I lay, no shirt, the johnny did not fit and they had no other size. They said they'd bring me some pajama bottoms but later reported they didn't have any. I complained that my feet were cold and asked for some socks or booties. They came back an hour later to report they didn't have any of those either.

I suffered further indignities but next day they allowed me to go home. They explained my blood gas index was up to 95% and that I had come in at 89%. They sold me a big brown paper bag full of medicine and gave me the johnny to wear home as a shirt. When I got back to my truck I noticed my swim gear and remembered there was a clean t-shirt in there. I was glad to get out of that stupid johnny.