The D.L. on the Lag.

I'm back. Like a bad penny that keeps returning. Not worth anything but still legal tender in this land of the 99 cent deal. Anyway, I awoke this morning with the sound of twittering and chirping birds. I had managed to break the 20 winks barrier. That is, I slept for just a bit more than the required 40 winks for a good night's rest.

That is so much better that my sleep at the hospital. At the hospital, my internal biological clock was squelched by the hospital time schedule, also called Greenwich Mean Nurse Time. Days flowed into Night with no division. There were no boundaries between the hours or minutes. Time was divided by patient chores that ignored the rising or setting of the sun. Time was divided by a succession of vital sign checks, various medicine dispensing, blood-letting donations, checking for BM's or urine output. One after the other, switched around depending on each individual department staffing situations.

When I got home, my recovery wasn't just about healing the huge swath of the surgeon's sword, it is also getting over Hospital Lag. No one ever talks about it. You hear often about Jet Lag, the more glamorous cousin. And why not? Who wants to hear about Hospital Lag when you can hear about Jet Lag, an excuse to launch into the trip to Bali to pray for the peace of the world, Cartona to talk about that impromptu olive tasting, or the sheep shearing experience just outside Alice's Station in the outback. Who wants to hear about someone's duel with death at the operating table? I'm sure I'd rather hear about letting Nicole Sheridan cut in line at the salad bar at that chic little spa just across the water from downtown Nice, just like you. But there it is. Hospital Lag.
I thought when I got home to recuperate, I'd have tons of things I could and would do. The lag would be banished by the continuous and frenetic activity I had planned, none too rigorous to impede the healing process, of course. I have so much reading I planned to do. I haven't read a word. I hoped to get my computer organized. I haven't figured out how to access those files yet. I was going to watch all these great movies on the telly. I haven't seen any listing worth sitting thru. I got a "going to the hospital gift" from some of my office staff. It's 2 sets of flashcards for learning slang. Yes, slang. I straight got game to cold kill it, by the way. (For those of you who are "nerds, uncool, or simply suburban" like I was not so long ago, the "D.L." in the title refers to the down low, which means the confidential secret). Okay, so I go to that stuff. I also got to one other thing. I had planned to write about my experiences with hip replacement surgery and recovery. Unfortunately to you, I did get to that.
Did I banish the Hospital Lag. No. After only 3 days and 2 nights at the hospital you wouldn't think my internal clock went dead but it did, it is, and it's still there. I still can't tell what day it is off the top of my head. I often get mixed up when I actually gave my self injection of the anti-coagulant.

Hospital Lag. I wonder when I'll catch up.