If you ever know anyone who has to spend more than three days in the hospital, this is my advice: VISIT THEM! Days in the hospital go by slooooowly, and visitors (even if they're people you wouldn't even schedule a lunch with under normal circumstances) make it go by faster. To give you an idea, here's a look at my typical day here:
5:00 a.m.: The residents make their rounds, waking me up to ask me how I feel. Umm, tired, thanks.
6:00 a.m.: A nurse comes by to take my temperature, pulse, and blood pressure (they do this every two hours or so). She asks me how I feel. Still tired, but thanks for asking!
7:30 a.m.: Activity on the floor is in full-swing now, so there's no use trying to sleep anymore. I take a shower in the nasty little stall (flip-flops are a must), and try to dry myself off with a towel the size of a placemat.
8:00 a.m.: Eat breakfast (usually cereal, a banana, and a hard-boiled egg) and watch the Today Show. This is pretty much the highlight of the day, though I'm still mourning the absence of Katie Couric.
9:00 a.m.: I have to go to a different floor for my daily non-stress test (when they monitor the babies' movements and heartbeats, as well as any contractions I might be having). But I'm not allowed to walk there on my own, so I have to wait in a wheelchair for someone from the "transport" department to wheel me down.
9:30 a.m.: Transport finally arrives to take me for the test.
10:30 a.m.: The non-stress test is done (the babies are doing great!). I'm back in the wheelchair waiting to be brought back to my floor.
11:15 a.m.: Still waiting in the wheelchair for transport. Apparently, there are only two transporters for the entire hospital. I offer to make the elevator trip all by myself like a big girl, but I'm forbidden.
11:30 a.m.: Still waiting.
12:00 p.m.: Back in my room. Lunch is served. Tuna salad on a roll. Should a hospital really be serving pregnant women so much tuna?
12:30 p.m. – 6:30 p.m.: Lay around. Try to read, try to watch TV, try to write, try to sleep...don't really succeed at anything.
6:30 p.m.: Emily comes! This is what I've been waiting for all day. We eat dinner together (she brought me a grilled cheese today) and we lay in the bed together watching TV.
9:30 p.m.: Emily has to leave. I usually cry.
9:30 p.m. – 12:00 a.m.: Listen to my new roommate talk on the phone. Ear plugs don't help. Who can she possibly talk to for this long?
12:00 a.m.: Call the nurse for an Ambien. Feel guilty about it until I fall asleep.