The full spectrum is here at the freaking shiniest happiest hospital on the planet. And I can not smile at one more volunteer, patient care assistant, nurse or med student or doctor-in-training or actual doctor. Not while my son is sick. Not while the child in the next room is screaming her head off. Not while I feel as though I haven't slept in a month. Don't come in here and ask me if there's anything you can do for me. No, there is NOTHING you can do for me. Back the hell off, give my kid his medicine, and imagine what it's like to be in my shoes. This happy crap is really starting to piss me off.
PMS...check. Lack of sleep...check. Irritable child in need of an attitude adjustment...check. The trifecta of a great day. And all of these caregivers are on speed or something. Seriously, do they teach them that tone of voice at medical school or what? I expect syrup to drip from their lips as they smile those smiles at my son (who really could care less whether they are even in the room).
And is there some rule that moms and dads suddenly lose all person-hood once you enter a hospital with your child? Yeah, the kid's fever is up...he just got done screaming and crying for fifteen minutes. Yeah, the kid is refusing to eat because he wants to go home. Yeah, the kid won't take the damn motrin. What do you want me to do about it? Leave him alone for fifteen freaking minutes and let him step down off the ledge he's been clinging to since yesterday when he lost all control of his little life. Heck, let ME step down off the ledge too. Back off and stop telling us that he needs to take more Motrin right now...that he needs to eat...blah blah blah. If you have some magic answer for how to achieve these things, more power to you. But having been his mom for four years, I THINK I carry a little more weight than you as far as his opinion goes...so shut up and let me talk to my kid!
And let me tell you something else...no more teaching sessions. He's FOUR. He doesn't need to hear about antibiotic resistent bacteria and treatment possibilities and how LONG he's going to be stuck here in this place. He does not need a dozen people filing into the room to stand around his bed and talk about him like he's not even here. He does not need you chasing him down in the playroom with the IV pole and informing him that he won't be able to play anymore because you have to hook him up (we'll get him to the room...just give us a minute to do it so that we get minimal resistance). And he does NOT need students accosting him in the BATHROOM to look at his leg. For Christ's sake, he's not a freak, he's a little boy and you have just crossed the line. He's asleep...let him sleep...or I will hurt you. And I have just the attitude to do it right now.
***And one more thing. It is NOT MY JOB to alert you when the damn beeper starts going off on the IV monitor. Figure out how long it's going to take to deliver the medication and come back at the right time. I'm tired of hunting you down to turn off the freaking beep!
(Just so I'm clear, this is not a condemnation of the freaky happy people, but more a realization of MY limits. I'm tired, frustrated, angry, sad, and basically at the end of my proverbial rope.)