As far as hospital rooms go I have a very sweet deal going on. During my last stay here I had three rooms and that means I had to move twice during my recovery. I don't think it did me any harm, but it was kind of a pain in the ass and I had to be careful I was going in the right room when I would come back from walks. I also had three different roommates, the last being a crying infant. This time around I have been placed in an isolation room. None of my nurses have shown up in hazmat suits yet so, I don't think I'm carrying any weird or dangerous diseases that need to be quarantined. I think I just got lucky; either that or they didn't think any kids wanted a giant man-child as a roommate. Either way is fine by me. Now, I only have to put up with my own crying and whining.
Let's take a more detailed tour. This is my mom's nook:
She usually spends her time with me reading, making lesson plans for her upcoming school year, or trying to decipher my narcotics induced ramblings. I'd say she's been successful at all three.
Here is my bathroom:
I can pee and shower all by myself, and I am very proud of both of those facts.
Finally, this is my bed and/or command station:
This is where I spend 80% of my time right now, but the more I can walk the less time I have to sit here!
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