Hospitals

You know you've spent too much time in the hospital when:

Your health insurance cards (yes, plural) get promoted to the front pocket of your wallet.

You have questions about the workings of living wills and medical power of attorney that the hospital’s representative can’t answer.

You learn how to shut off the heart-monitoring-device to keep it from beeping at you.

Your little sister easily finds your hospital room because it’s the same one you were in last time.

You know a good joke involving a cardiologist talking to a neurologist.

When Scattergories asks you to come up with “Items in a medicine cabinet,” your family proceeds to list the various medications they keep in one of the kitchen cabinets.

Your little sister never went to preschool, but says she remembers it.  She then proceeds to recount various memories of the hospital’s babysitting center.

Your family’s mini-vacation is hijacked by a trip to the ER.

Your little sister donated blood to the blood drive the last time you were in the hospital.  When she tries it this time, she’s informed that she can’t donate again so soon.

When you are listing the various forms of public transportation you employed during your last trip to New York City, you make sure to include "Ambulance."

You have discovered that contrary to popular belief, string theory does not make any more sense when you are hopped up on pain-killers.

Your dad manages to recognize your x-ray, even when it is unlabeled.

On that rare occasion when your little sister get's hospitalized instead, your mom tells her friends about it, and they all tell you to get well soon.

Despite being the eternal designated driver, you are the first of your peers to get a liver biopsy.

You can tell when the heart-monitoring machine is misreading your pulse.

You don't have to look at the hospital's menu before ordering your lunch.

You are surprised when you discover that most kids your age have never had an IV.

It takes the Red Cross about three hours and two doctors to determine that they are not going to let you give blood.

You associate the smell of alcohol with blood, because they always use acohol wipes before drawing your blood.

Your surgery was performed by the guy it was named after.

Your high school makes sure to schedule you for study hall during the last period of the day so you can easily leave early for your doctor's appointments.

Your high school doesn't bother to ask you for doctor's notes anymore.

You have to fight your high school's administration in order to not be put in the special ed PE class.

You have to explain your heart defect to the cardiologist.

You know what the word "palliative" means.

You're actually glad the TSA has those new body scanners because they're pacemaker-safe.

Your university has to gauss-map the physics building so they know which labs you shouldn't go near.

Your university's Office of Disability Services keeps offering you accomodations that you definitely don't need.

The administrators of your summer camp aren't comfortable letting you play dodgeball.

The administrators of your summer camp aren't comfortable letting you play ultimate frisbee.

You put all this crap on your blog.