One of the most satisfying things that happened in the hospital:
We’d checked in on Tuesday night. I was okay with skipping showering on Wednesday. But by Thursday, especially after all that adrenaline, I was feeling a little grim. I’d brought fresh socks/shirts/underwear, and I had deodorant and a toothbrush; I’d done what I could with the public-restroom-style brown paper towels and the antibacterial handsoap. But still. My hair was feeling bad, and I’d been sleeping in my clothes, and I only had one pair of pants, and my cardigan was already due for a laundering when I grabbed it on Tuesday. I was feeling stale and wilted, and my face looked so tired and stressed and dry in the fluorescent hospital lighting.
I looked online and found that there was a familiar chain drugstore just a couple of blocks from the hospital. I made one extremely brief attempt to get there (i.e., walking out the doors, looking around, realizing I didn’t even know whether to go left or right or what), then came right back inside and asked the Info Desk, and she was extremely nice and pointed me to a completely different exit door. I walked along the sidewalk, feeling the weird intimidated exhilaration of a town-mouse in a city, trying to be all cool about it, like “Yeah, here I am, in a city, no big, using crosswalks with crossing lights like it’s totally normal for me, stepping around piles of unknown substances like a boss!” Also feeling kind of oily and grubby, but better out in the fresh(ish) air and sunshine.
I found the drugstore, and I got a shopping basket, and then I spent some time there in a fugue state of happiness and gratitude, going up and down every aisle in a reverie. That such a store should exist! That it should exist within brief walking distance of the hospital! That I should be able to buy the things there that would make me so much more comfortable and happy! That I should be in the lucky percentage of the population that could do so without facing financial distress! Oh how wonderful to be alive!
Each thing on my hopeful list, I checked it off. A 2-in-1 conditioning shampoo! An inexpensive-but-familiar face lotion that would work well for day and night since no sunscreen was needed! A fabric-freshening spray! A bar of nice-scented soap! A travel-size toothpaste! A hairbrush! A 3-pack of underwear, which they happened to have in my size even though they had only half a dozen packages total! A 3-pack of socks! How lucky, how very lucky, how very very lucky!
I went back to the hospital with my bag of success, feeling as if I had conquered Rome in a peaceful way with no injury, death, or cultural suppression. I took one of the best showers of my life, right up there with the first shower after any of my c-sections; also up there with the first shower I took at home after attending, as a self-conscious and modest teenager, a weeklong camp where, as it turned out, there were cold-water showers, and everyone was undressing publicly where everyone waiting in line could see them do so, so I took one (1) total shower the whole week, and it was the one where I learned that these things were the case, and then no more after that until I returned home and showered for a long, long time.
In terms of cleanliness/joy, I felt like a woman in a shampoo commercial. And the whole hospital room smelled better, because of the soap (Yardley’s English Lavender) and the spray (Downy Wrinkle Release Spray Plus). I spritzed my pants with fabric refresher! I washed a shirt in the sink using the bar soap! It was a transformation, a game-changer. Everything was better after this outing/shower/day.
As satisfying as it was to solve the problem of not having those things with me, I have made a list for the future, in order to avoid having to solve that problem again except when absolutely necessary. Here is my new Packing List for a Hospital Stay with a Child:
Packing List for a Hospital Stay with a Child
laptop & charging cable
phone & charging cable
back-up phone batteries
books
snacks
travel backpack
purse
pillow
laundry bag
deodorant
hairbrush
toothbrush/toothpaste/floss
day/night face lotion
hair gel
hair clips & ponytail holders
medications/vitamins
little pill container
Downy fabric-freshening spray
2-in-1 shampoo/conditioner
bar soap
underwear
socks
shirts
spare pants
pajama pants
CARDIGAN
underwear for child
pants for child
one shirt for child
one pair socks for child
shoes for child
deodorant for child
toothbrush for child
hairbrush for child
child’s phone
books for child
comfy throw blanket for child
That looks like a huge list, but it all fit into a backpack and a tote bag, plus the throw blanket carried separately, and the pillow left behind in the car in case I didn’t need it (I didn’t).
CARDIGAN is all-capsed because the first draft of the list didn’t include it, and then I remembered it and was electrified with horror at the idea of forgetting it. The hospital was so chilly, I wore the cardigan around the clock and wished for a warmer(/cleaner) one.
My travel backpack is the one I use when Edward and I go to his Remicade appointments. It has in it a warm hat for him (he sometimes gets chilly during infusions), and an umbrella, and a bunch of ketchup packets (he usually prefers more ketchup than is provided with his hospital meal). Carrying some of my stuff on my back makes me feel less like I’m arriving with a huge pile of luggage.
“Little pill container” refers to the a pillbox I keep in my purse with a couple doses each of ibuprofen, benadryl, decongestants, caffeine, prescription tranquilizers.
It’s “one pair socks for child” because the hospital provides non-slip socks for the patient. So the child only needs a regular pair of socks for the trip home, as well as one pair of pants and one shirt for the trip home, because they wear a hospital johnny the rest of the time; or they might want another pair of pants to wear with the johnny, as Edward did. And you would think “shoes for child” would go without saying, since the child would be WEARING shoes, but I added it because I came very close to dropping Edward’s shoes off at home when I stopped there between ER and children’s hospital: he took them off in the ER, and then they took him by ambulance from there so he hadn’t put them back on, and I’d scooped them up with our other things.
“Comfy throw blanket” isn’t necessary if you’re traveling light, and neither was pillow as it turned out, but I like to think of those things and consider if I want them or not; and Edward has a favorite throw blanket he uses all the time at home, which turned out to be really nice to have with us.








