Sleeping on a popsicle stick

What a joy, what an adventure to sleep in a hospital room. Here in Chez Ortho, the guest accommodations are marginally hospitable.

My mom's room is large. It's spacious. It's like a room at a Comfort Inn. If you got your innards scooped out at a Comfort Inn.

We arrived on Monday night. I took it all in. There's a wee couch in the room under the wall of windows. Being swift thinking as I am, I immediately deduced my berth for the duration. I looked it over with my keen, mechanically inclined mind. I spied a handle like the sort on the side of a mattress, so I pulled on it.

What appeared looked like a bed, but it sits really high and causes a huge gap against the back, so I put it back together thinking surely I was missing something.

The nurse came in and after all the formalities had been handled, I asked about the bed. She reached over as if to grab the handle and then she stopped and said, '' You're better off leaving it this way. So being naive I accepted that. It certainly looked like she was right. Even the nurses after her agreed.

I can't recall having a worse night's sleep that didn't involve either a floor or a tent and a monsoon.

I'm saying it was bad. I tossed, turned and even flipped. I arranged and rearranged. I swapped out pillows.

Finally at 0445, all the action began. At 0515, my aunt arrived. I put some pretty on, but that didn't hide the huge, dark bags that were gathered under my eyes like luggage waiting outside a cruise ship door.

After listening to people all day long agree that the beds are awful, I promptly pulled on the handle and put all my faith in the person who designed it. It's pretty comfortable after all.

Notice the white-on-white decor. It's all the rage; all the hospitals are doing it.

Also? I'm wide awake. Life is so unfair puting me in my snazzy bed and then keeping me up all night.