On hospitals...

I spent Monday morning in the hospital. Nothing big ... they just sprayed Novacaine on my throat, put me to sleep and slipped a camera down my esophagus. I woke up to Harvest Cheddar Sun Chips and Sprite ready to combat my falling blood sugar and warm blankets piled on top of me. Not a bad way to spend the day.

My angel-mother went with me. She held my purse when I was filling out paper work, my hand when I saw the needle going in for the IV and my arm when I made my way out to the car. She's beat cancer. She saw her own mother through a medical mess. I can't even begin to count the hours she spent with Sam during his stay in NICU, his heart surgery or other procedures he's had performed at Primary Children's Medical Center. Much to her chagrin, she is an expert on hospitals.

So I believed her when the first words out of her mouth as we made our way to the lab were "This is a nice hospital." It gave me a little boost in confidence for the upcoming procedure. However, I wasn't so sure what to make of her next comment as she came out of the women's room on the second floor: "They have weird Italian restaurant music going on in there."

She was right. It was weird. Here I was in a lab surrounded by mostly old people. (Oh the stories and the conversations I heard ... is anyone else dreading turning 50 and needing a colonoscopy? Because now I definitely am.) There were insurance forms to be filled out and pamphlets on acid reflux and it smelled like some kind of antiseptic. The room was decorated in business teal and brown. Hard counter tops and shiny IV poles were only slightly softened by rainbow curtain dividers. The warm ambiance music of Macaroni Grill just didn't mesh.

It did, however, make me hungry. And that was unfortunate because I couldn't eat. Of all the things I endured in preparation for Monday morning, not eating or drinking anything after midnight was the worst. At 11 p.m. the night before I was hungry just in anticipation of midnight. By 11 a.m. the next morning I was starving. Boy those Sun Chips tasted good.

But I don't know if I'll ever be able to listen to the music at Macaroni Grill in the same way again.