It's been a week since I was released from the hospital, and I must say that I am so glad to be back at home.  Not because I was in agony, not because of the continuous blood draws.  It wasn't even the isolation, in fact, it was quite the opposite.

While a hospital should be a place of peace and healing, my first roommate made it almost impossible to rest at all.

I was admitted Friday morning, and he was admitted just after midnight that night.  My pain medication wasn't really doing much for me, so it was hard enough to get any sleep.

When he showed up, I had no real problem with the situation.  He spoke with the doctors and nurses and began making phone calls.  At about 1:30am, he got a call from his 'baby mama.'  They fought for a good fifteen minutes and then he finally ended the conversation.  She called back two or three times and he simply took the phone off the hook.

The next day, he had visitors left and right.  My parents came to visit me on Saturday night, and we tried to have nice quiet conversation.  It was difficult with my neighbor's TV as loud as it would go and his sister's computer playing music at full blast.  But as hard as it was to focus on my parents' visit thus far, things were about to get interesting.

"Baby mama" actually showed up in our room.  After about five minutes of screaming at each other, she spat on him, at which point he jumped out of his hospital bed, knocking over his IV pole, pulling out his IV, and proceeded to chase her down the hallway.  I didn't know that we had bought tickets to a taping of "The Jerry Springer Show," but they must have been recording an episode.

My parents and I decided to go for a walk, simply because I wanted to get away from the chaos.  When we returned, the bed with spittle was in the hallway, and my roommate was nowhere to be found.  The nurses told me that he was moved to a different room.  After my parents left, I thought I would be able to get some rest after the commotion, but that would make way too much sense.

Apparently, 'baby mama' insisted on continuing their conversation but had no idea that 'daddy' had been moved to a different room.    So instead of a quiet night resting and recuperating, I spent the evening counting how many times the phone on the other side of the room rang.  An hour and a half, and almost 1,000 rings later, I had to call the nurse in to unplug the phone.  This ridiculous episode that seemed like an eternity was over and I was finally able to get some sleep.

Unfortunately, the following night...    (To be continued.)