It’s possible that this may come as a shock to you, but I’m a total diva. As a matter of fact, Muffy and I like to bask in our diva-ness. One lovely Saturday, we were enjoying brunch at one of our favorite spots. Muffy’s mom joined us for a latte and we were enjoying one of the first weekends of the year. Muffy made an observation: she looked at the chair that was holding all our handbags (because we divas do not put our handbags on the floor) and said, “There’s over a $1000 worth of handbags on that chair.” It was true. What made the situation even more fantastic is that we were all dropping off mink coats for summer storage right after brunch. Divas, I tell you.
When I travel, I do it in style. I do not backpack, I do not stay in hostels, nor do I book at the Holiday Inn. The accomodations have to be at least 3 stars, and that’s freaking stretching it-I’m used to being spoiled by hotel staff. And mama likes the room service. You can imagine my chagrin when I was admitted to the hospital and wheeled into my room. I nearly had a freaking heart attack when I realized they wanted me to share a room. What?? Are you kidding me?? Me? Share a room? I don’t think so.
On the other side of the curtain was an older woman who was hacking up one of her lungs. She’d have a terrible coughing fit, and then pass out and snore for an extended period of time. No. I was not going to share. So there I am, dying from blood poisoning, and I’m demanding my own room. I sent my mother to go and talk to the nurse to see what it was going to take to get my own room. My mother thought my request was ridiculous. I could overhear the conversation with the nurse as they were in the doorway of the room. The nurse asked my mother why I wanted my own room, and my mom (being so supportive and helpful) responded, “Because she’s picky.” Way to plea my case. The nurse came in to talk to me and I gave her a whole song and dance about how I was a really light sleeper and blah, blah, blah.
Right around this time Lady Hacker on the other side of the curtain buzzed the nurse. The nurse excused herself for a moment and went to the other side of the curtain. Lady Hacker needed to use the bathroom. No problem, they just wheeled her little commode over. “Oh God,” I thought to myself. “Please, please, God, please don’t let me hear her have to poop. Only #1. Only #1.” I could hear her position herself on the commode, as she was literally less than 2 feet from me. And then she started peeing, and it was like the happiest moment of her life because she kept saying, “Ahhhh.” Who taught that woman manners??
My mom and I just exchanged looks and then she said, “Don’t worry. You’ll get your own room.”
Two hours later Lady Hacker and I parted ways and I was taken to my own room. Sure the air conditioning leaked all over the floor, I had to request more soap for the bathroom 8 times (it took them 12 hours to fix it), and the sink drained slowly, but at least it was mine. I totally thought the nurse had come through for me and just pulled some strings. Not so much. I was so sick that I was in one of the isolation rooms. Everyone that came in had to wear gowns and gloves. It was hot.