Move to Spaulding

This was the view from the bed at my first room at Spaulding Rehab. Spaulding is a top notch rehab place, so it's kind of weird to see that it looks so drab and institutional. I've heard a bunch of people say "we're building a new hospital." But I kind of like it. I like old functional buildings.

I feel like a spy in the belly of the health care system. Or maybe just in the land of old people. My roommate was the patient from hell. He was up literally all night with complaints and demands of the nurses, who were bending over backwards like a troupe of cirque de soleil contortionists trying to cater to his every whim, but all he can think about is how everyone is out to get him, and the nurses never come fast enough when he hits the call button. I got a little sleep thanks to an iPod, and my earplugs, and a damp towel over my eyes to keep the light out. In the morning he was apologetic to me, and to the nurses. He does actually recognize that they do an absolutely heroic job.

The nurse asked if I wanted a room change, and I really need some rest so I didn't say no, and now I'm across the hall with a view of the Zakim Bridge (although I'm not in the window bed so it doesn't matter that much.) While I was getting ready for PT, he was on the phone with his wife, who has cancer. I heard him say things like "you're the most important thing in my life" and "better times are ahead." But he's 76, so there's no guarantee of that. As frustrating as this is for me right now, I don't have quite as much at stake as most of the rest of these patients. This is what I mean when I say I feel like a spy. The last time I saw him he was sitting at the window sobbing.