If you’re going to be in the hospital, here’s some things to keep in mind

Do you like hospitals? I appreciate the things they do, like helping people, but I’d rather spend the night in a haunted house than spend a single night in a hospital.

Two months ago, I had my second total knee replacement surgery. Both knee joints had been losing function for years, so the surgeries were necessary. The first replacement earned me three nights in the hospital. The second required just one. I was so determined not to stay another night that I packed exactly enough for 24 hours.

Did I mention that I really don’t like hospitals?

A few years ago, when I was diagnosed with stage 4 cirrhosis after years of liver disease that eventually became metabolic dysfunction-associated steatohepatitis (MASH), I spent far more time in and out of hospitals than I care to remember. Sometimes it was a quick trip to the emergency department for ascites, that pesky fluid buildup that can make your belly blow up like a bouncy house at a 5-year-old’s birthday party.

Other times, including a little heart attack coupled with a gastric bleed, I stayed more than a week. It was never as much fun as “Scrubs” made hospital life look.

Like a baseball player with lucky socks, I developed my own hospital superstitions. If I was waiting for an ambulance, I overpacked like I was boarding a steamship for the other side of the world. My theory was simple: The more I packed, the sooner they’d send me home.

I was usually right.

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Planning for a stay

The opposite also seemed true. I’d go to a doctor expecting a prescription and instead get marched toward admission with nothing but my cellphone gasping on its last bar of battery life. Then came the speed run through my contacts: I’m in the hospital. Not sure how long. Could you feed my cats? And scoop their boxes? Gee, thanks.

These days, I plan ahead and keep it simple. Hospitals generally don’t require a full wardrobe. You’ll spend plenty of time in those enormous gowns that somehow still showcase your unsuspecting butt cheeks to a parade of profoundly unimpressed medical professionals. I’m not sure what’s worse: knowing everyone saw your butt or knowing everyone saw your butt and nobody registered an ounce of joy about it.

Depending on your procedure, you may spend much of your stay in a gown and nonslip hospital socks, so Victoria’s Secret can remain a secret until discharge. Still, pack comfortable clothes for going home, your identification, insurance information, and whatever else your hospital recommends on its admission checklist.

And bring chargers. All the chargers.

For entertainment, I bring a tablet or notebook computer, earbuds, and a real book. If the hospital television choices make you yearn for YouTube, Netflix, or your favorite murder show, you’ll be prepared. Earbuds are particularly important if you have a roommate. Total strangers do not need to know that homicide documentaries lull you gently to sleep.

I also carry a simple notepad and a written list of important phone numbers. Technology is wonderful until the battery dies. Then suddenly it’s 1987, and none of us knows anyone’s telephone number.

If a hospital stay drags on and you miss your pets, ask what options are available. Some hospitals offer animal-assisted therapy, and policies on personal pet visits vary. I wish I had asked years ago before I had to rehome my cats Zuzu and Coraline during a long illness. I never got a proper goodbye, although I’m grateful they went to a wonderful home.

Food is another sanity saver. If you’re on a medically restricted diet, including sodium restrictions for cirrhosis and ascites, check with your care team before ordering outside food. When it was allowed, friends rescued me with pizza and wings, sushi and glorious crab cakes, a staple of the Mid-Atlantic diet, just when the hospital menu had me longing for anything that didn’t taste like hospital food.

You can’t perfectly prepare for every hospital stay, but a little planning makes a miserable experience more manageable. I’ll soon be doing it again when I have my shoulder joints replaced, so I intend to follow my own advice.

One final tip: Be nice to your nurses. If you forget something or suddenly need help, they may become your heroes in scrubs. But be kind to them anyway. Their jobs are hard, the hours are long, and gratitude is free.

That may be the best thing you pack.

Note: Liver Disease News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Liver Disease News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to liver disease.