*Bad Bedside Manner*

I have the absolute worst bedside manner. It's a burden I've had to bare for as long as I can remember. At the sight of blood, I feel queazy and start to black out. I have a severe phobia of the hospital and start to freak out when I have to go in one. It's a germaphobe's worst nightmare and it's not easy to face. I mean…you have no idea what's crawling on you after you leave that place and who knows what frightening things you may encounter there.

As most of you know, my sister has been extremely ill with salmanila for a few days now. When Molly first got to the hospital, I had no idea because everyone forgot to wake me up from my nap. I guess Molly in a deathly state overruled alerting me which is probably understandable. Once I woke up and figured out what happened, I went strait to the hospital forgetting my severe phobia.

It didn't take long to remember my fear because the moment I walked into the lobby I felt myself start to hold my breath. "What is coming into my lungs?!?! MUST NOT BREATHE!!!" I thought as I shuffled over to the elevator. I was shocked to realize I didn't have a napkin to push the button with so I tried to kick it with my foot which was not helpful. Luckily an unsuspecting citizen pushed the button for me and I sure hope for their sake they washed their hands afterwards. They must be unaware of those germs sitting on there waiting to pounce.

The elevator smelled like an old man's foot mixed with two different types of perfume. I was squished between way too many people and we awkwardly rode the vator up without any sign of conversation. I tried to hold my breath again, but my head was starting to hurt so I had to stop. Luckily, labor and delivery is on the second floor, so I didn't have to endure that hardship long.

I was told by the front desk lady to pick up the phone and ask the nurse to let me in at the special doors. The phone smelled like the old Chuck E Cheese slide and I could only imagine how many people had talked into it without thinking to clorox! I held it far away from my head and screamed into the phone when I thought I heard a voice. I guess it worked, because the door unlocked.

I got to Molly's room and was horrified to see her in such a dark state. She was VERY sick. I washed my hands and grabbed some gloves to keep myself safe from whatever it was. I timidly said hello to her and went and sat in the corner and proceeded to stare at her with a frightened look. "What do I do, what do I do?!"…I was not helping anything one bit. All I did was start to cry as Molly told me she was sorry I had nothing to keep me occupied. Here she was being selfless and I was just falling apart in the corner of the room asking if she'd ever walk again. FAIL.

Fortunately, Molly knows of my horrific bedside manner and asked for me to come back and visit anyway. She is very wonderful like that. I care about her so much and fighting through the jungles of the hospital to see her was an act of love. I actually went back everyday, because I wanted to be the best I could be…even if it was less than mediocre and hardly of any comfort at all.