Release Me

Ok. I'm back.

You (and by "You," I mean the two people who actually read this rag) probably thought I was gone for good but I'm not, so there.

Let's just say that I was doing a bit of research on German hospital culture. It had to be an up close and in depth investigation so I decided to stay a while. Only 12 days, no biggie. Just enough to get to know my German neighbors, spy on those truths they hold to be self-evident, and perfect my ability to spontaneously sob on cue.

The project was quite successful, actually. I've come to appreciate what it is like to have my own space--even if it is a bit foreign. Sharing a room with a strange person is bad enough when you already have a mild case of social anxiety. Sharing a room with a sick stranger is more intimidating when you have a stronger case of germ-a-phobia and realize that both of your roommates see little reason to use soap and water after clandestine trips to the bathroom. Sharing a room with a sick stranger who snores, speaks a language different than you, and strictly adheres to the German "frei corpe" standard of open nakedness when you are a light sleeper, insecure speaker of German, and someone who doesn't like to see herself naked let alone a complete stranger is a nightmare. Note to self: if there is a next time, you will have your own room regardless of the cost.

In spite of my heralding roomie experiences, I must say that my impression of the German healthcare system and as a result, Germany, has been improved. My nurses and doctors could not have been more knowledgable and caring than they were. I never, for a minute, doubted that were treating me as opposed to number. I loved the fact that my hospital--Humboldt University--was a teaching hospital that treated me on the interdisplinary ward. I must have been seen by every Professor in the discipline and while they still gave me the typical doomsday scenario for every procedure to protect themselves from malpractice lawsuits, they were always quick to point out their confidence that I would pull through, never seemed to be in rush, and were generous with their hugs and concerns. For once, the German efficiency, straightforwardness, and obsessive thoroughness that has been so frustrating since we arrived really paid off. I'm better. I've weathered the storm and I honestly believe that the care I received was as good--if not, better--than any I could have received in the states.

So, my investigation is complete and I am thankful to have been released from prison--I mean the hospital. I'm no longer an invalid with no control over what I eat, when I sleep, and how I spend my time. Germany's profile has been raised in my view and I've come to appreciate the comforts of my own space. My current roommate is much more conscientious and accommating than those I've had in the past two weeks. My bed doesn't move up or down to help me in or out of bed but it does have a sheet separating the duvet cover from the fitted sheet. No one serves me meals in bed every day but if I weren't so headstrong I know that Nurse Mom would accommodate--she's better at it anyway. I'm awakened in the middle of the night--but not my someone asking to take my temperature, that's just John coming in for a cuddle. It's great to home. Home. Hmmmm.....