Some Debts Just Can’t Be Repaid

They say it’s not what you know, but who you know. And while in my professional life I’m basically just a bureaucrat without the government pension (it would not be unfair to say that my job is to push paper, design systems to push paper, and then support and report on those paper pushing systems), as a result of my job I know people who know people.

One of the people I know apparently knows people who are pretty high up in Virginia Mason’s food chain. Unbeknownst to me, they've been pulling strings since I arrived trying to get me moved into a private room.

I will never, ever be able to repay this kindness.

I cannot overstate how much of a difference being in a room by myself makes for my recovery. Not only is there elbow room for the folks who stop by (in the shared room a second visitor wound up standing or sitting on the floor), but I’m no longer awoken by my neighbor’s overnight alarms and needs. More important, I no longer have to worry about the effect of my actions on him. For the remainder of my stay, I’ll be waking up in the middle of the night, turning on the lights, grabbing a robe and my IV pole, and walking the halls.  This would’ve been exceedingly hard to do with another person sharing the room.

It’s impossible to say for sure, but I’d lay odds that the move to the private room shaved days off the duration of my hospital stay.

I owe you one. (You know who you are.)