Hospital oddballs

"I'm really sick. I think I need a pain pill."

The first time you hear those words come from the young woman in the bed next to yours while you're in the hospital, you feel sorry for that person.

Especially when she's only her early 30s and seems pretty sick.

I was in the hospital a few weeks ago, after going to the emergency room for what I thought was a routine kidney stone passage. I have those every few months, and they land me in the emergency room for a shot of strong pain killers and a reminder to drink more water.

This time, though, it wasn't a kidney stone. At least that's not all that was wrong. I was a hotbed of infection that went through my bladder and kidneys and into my blood, and was complicated by an ecoli illness.

I was a pretty sick lady.

But with all my ailments, I didn't feel all that poorly, once the doctors started pumping the antibiotics in. I felt pretty good, as a matter of fact, even if my medical team (and I'm still laughing at THAT!) kept me there five days.

But I felt even better when my roommate told me she had been there for two and a half weeks, and that she had surgery and that the doctors still didn't know what was wrong with her.

Two and a half weeks! Could it be cancer? The poor girl.

My pity lasted about an hour or so, until I realized that the pains she was suffering were, shall we say, selective.

She was in intense pain as long as there was a nurse there to check my blood pressure or IV. When the nurse left, the pain left. Amazing.

My suspicions climbed more when I overheard her asking a young man on the phone if he'd like her better if she gave up the "stuff."

Then nightfall came on that first night. She wanted pain pills every hour; she wanted a snack or something for her nausea. The food was bad so she sent it back to the kitchen. She rang the nurses every 10 minutes or so.

"I need a pillow...a drink...my slippers...a magazine..."

I still had no inkling, just annoyance that this girl was sick and whiny and I wanted to sleep in a position that wouldn't cause me to rip my IV out.

I finally fell asleep, despite her moaning and groaning.

Then day two came. She was supposed to leave, but since she had had surgery, of course you have to urinate and have a bowel movement before they will let you out of the hospital.

She couldn't. Plus her "pain" was at an all-time high.

There is no privacy in a hospital room. Those curtains don't hide anything.

So I laid there on my side of the curtain and turned up the television while they gave her an enema.

She couldn't go.

They gave her another one.

She still couldn't go.

They gave her another one.

She still couldn't shit.

So they took her for an x-ray. When she came back, she told me, in a self-satisfied way, "they'll probably have to open me up."

In a few minutes, the verdict of the x-rays came back.

She was doing it to herself. Somehow, some way, she was holding all that in. Plus she was not urinating...that's right, she was holding all that in, too.

By this point, her aunt came to visit. They sat there and complained to each other about how this girl's children had been taken away and how the hospital wasn't helping her and how she was not being treated fairly and how she should call the AMA and sue everyone.

By then, I needed headphones. My kids couldn't find any to bring me. So I got up frequently, took my IV cart and walked the hallways to get away from her. By then, I was about to give this bitch a reason to whine.

And that's when one of the nurses told me.

This girl was a jail inmate. A JAIL INMATE! And she had been there for two weeks and she was bring all the ailments on herself so she wouldn't have to go back!

All I wanted to do from the time I got there was to go home. I have a dear friend who has battled cancer not once, but twice and won this past year.

When I was wandering the halls, I heard children crying in some of the rooms. I heard others puking. I saw elderly ladies who smiled at me despite their illnesses and one poor fellow who couldn't stand up straight because he had had an operation.

And my stupid cow of a roommate was faking to stay out of jail!

So that night, I laid on my side of the room and listened to her moan and groan. I enjoyed the extra attention of the nurses, who sneaked me in extra Sprites and ice cream just to spite Miss Illness.

It was a bravura performance she put on. And she did shit, eventually. I heard her...and ratted her out.

I also heard her stick her finger down her throat during the night to get sick.

The next morning, her doctor was there very early, right after the nurses woke her up at 6 a.m. and made her urinate. He was short with her and told her she was fine. I found his bedside manner very odd.

Then, during breakfast, one of the nurses called me out to the hall. She asked me to be out of the room at 8:45 a.m., because sheriff's deputies were coming to collect the actress.

I wanted to stay...I'm a news person and I've been there when they arrested murderers and drug dealers, for the love of God. But I left...because they didn't want me to get hurt if she resisted arrest.

The deputies came and got her and she gave up without a struggle or a noise that I could hear.

I assume she's still in jail, and I hope she stays there a long time. I learned after she left that her other acts included smacking her head on the bathroom wall and acting like she had fallen and holding her pillow over her head to induce illness.

But she's back in jail, and I hope she doesn't get sick again. I'd like to say it was the humanitarian part of me, but...after all, I have my own medical bills to worry about...and now my tax dollars have to go to paying this woman's, too.

I still don't know why the hospital thought it would be perfectly okay to put a normal person in a room with a jail inmate...but I did enjoy the peace the following day.

And I learned that nurses really are saints.

I would have smacked her around with a bedpan. A really dirty one.