Deadly Hospital Gowns

The hospital gown nearly killed me.

I was working as usual that day; Summer of 2018. Sunny weather, not too hot. My oldest had recently moved out of the house. I was in the process of repainting that room to make it MY room. A place where I could get away, relax, read, “play” my new guitar.

“Play!” (sarcastically) How is that MY fingers are too fat to play single strings on the fret board?

I digress. Let me back up and tell you the story of how my illness didn’t kill me, but the hospital clothing nearly did.

(que dreamy harp music as we fade to story)

Last summer I had a stroke while painting that bedroom. Technically a TIA. I mentioned this in a previous post which outlined the subtle and sneaky symptoms of stroke.

The symptoms were barely noticeable throughout the day. Little light-headed at times, lips felt weird, but otherwise, I felt perfectly normal. At no point did I considered stopping work.

But after dinner, when the symptoms seemed to be getting worse, my wife drove me to the Emergency Room.

At intake all was calm. They took my vitals including BP which was like 185/90. Abnormally high for me. Way high.

A nurse came out and walked me back to the ER room. “Lay here,” she said pointing to the bed. “In just a minute it’s going to be very busy
in here”, she remarked as she left.

About 3 minutes later, all hell broke loose.

The small room was flooded with at least a dozen medical people all talking at once. One was standing directly over me, “Raise both your arms, raise your legs together, look at the light”. The barrage of instructions was fast and furious. I struggled to keep up. Later I would learn they were trying to determine which side of my brain had been affected and how severely.

They whisked me off to radiology for an x-ray and a CAT scan.

Upon my return to the ER, the doctor informed me that I had indeed suffered a very minor blockage in my brain. A stroke. A Transient Ischemic Attack, commonly referred to as a TIA.

There is a drug they can give stroke victims which helps relieve the attack. But in my case, the incident was so small, and so late in the process (because I was a typical stupid, stubborn man who thought he could just “tough it out”), the medicine’s usefulness was deemed questionable. So they skipped it.

“We’ll just admit you and keep an eye on it for a few days”, the doctor said.

That’s when I began to die.

You know, I totally get the functionality of a hospital gown.

• A. It has to keep your private stuff, well, private. It does a half-assed job of that. Pun intended.
• B. It has to be able to be ripped off quickly in case they gotta zap you with the paddles or shove some body piercing needles or otherwise into you.
• C. It has to have a pocket for the monitor and plenty of open spaces where the lead wires can go through.

Folks, many billions of dollars are spent each year on new medicines, new technologies, new techniques to fight hospital contagions, but who is working on the hospital gown problem?

“Pish-posh”, you say. “You’re trifling over nothing”.

But I’m not. The modern hospital gown is a dismal failure!

Here’s why:

1. Ties in the back. Seriously, can anyone do this? I have to tie it while its off, then hope I left enough space for my no-so-fat head to slip through. Invariably, it’s too floppy once I have it on.
2. Even if I somehow manage to then tie the second string at waist level, my butt never feels quite, how shall I say it, secure.
3. Each time I have to use the bathroom, we fight with that waist string again. See #2
4. It bunches up under you when you get in bed. then tries to choke you when you attempt to slide up.
5. It looks like hell. Too big, too droopy, ugly in color.
6. It makes ME look like hell. Old.

You’re sharp, so you probably noticed I stressed that last point twice. Now thrice. They look like hell!

“Dress for Success” was a concept brought to popularity in the 60’s I believe. Scientific studies showed that your outer appearance impacted how you felt about yourself inside. Folks who dressed well, felt well. They were more likely to feel confident. This improved their performance and also the way other people treated them.

You’ve probably experienced this yourself. You see a bum poorly dressed and so you think not too much of him, or expect much from him either. Doctors and lawyers dress far better and consequently, we think more highly of them and expect far more from them.

So when the hospital dresses me like a slob, in a gown resembling a giant kids bib, how does that make me feel? Like crap, of course, that’s how!

Visitors are supposed to cheer you up and speed your recovery. But I don’t want my friends or family to see me looking this horrible! Heck, I don’t even want to look at me like this.

It’s very depressing!

“The Elder” consumed me that day; body and mind. Bob, as I knew him, was gone, dead. As I looked in the mirror, The Elder was the only one present in the hospital room that day, and that really scared me.

Seeing the Elder there without me made me sad and mad. It was the anger that brought feisty Bob back to life.

Here’s why I got mad. And why, from the madness, I now propose a fabulous get-rich business for someone:

1. There are millions of captive hospital patients every year. They all need gowns. Hospitals with big budgets buy them.
2. There are thousands of fashion designers. Many of them fabulously talented and underpaid.

James Altucher in his book, “The Choose Yourself Guide To Wealth”, coined the term “Idea Sex”.

Idea Sex is where you mate two ideas that seem unrelated, but who knows, might be good together. It’s really how all new inventions are created.

Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups demonstrates this well in ads where peanut butter and chocolate “accidentally” fall together and produce this phenomenal tasting candy. Remember them? “You got peanut butter in my chocolate!” “No, you got chocolate in my peanut butter!” Surprise! “Mmmmmmm that’s so good!”

Here’s the gist of my idea, a jumping off point for smart entrepenuers:

Tuxedo tee shirts have been around forever. Why not riff off of that for starters? Why can’t impossible ties in the back be replaced with velcro. Even little kids can work velcro!

Let’s make the hospital corridors look like one big fancy ballroom. Patients all dressed to the nines, looking sharp and feeling fine in their fancy hospital gowns. That will boost their spirits!

We make the children’s hospital all cheery, but not the adult hospitals. That’s age discrimination!

Studies have shown that a positive outlook, our mental state, plays an important roll in recovery.

We know it works for kids. Why would we think drab is better for adult mood and healing?

Ambiance matters.

We gotta fix this hospital gown thing folks. The look AND the fit.

Looking at myself in the mirror that day sucked; it nearly killed all of me to see me looking like that.

Putting on my regular clothes to go home, looking like my usual self, that lifted my mood immediately.

“When you look good, you feel good!”

Bob wrenched himself back from The Elder’s evil clutches that day. It was a close fight. Thankfully, I suffered no permanent damage from the TIA. I’m back with a vengeance!

It could have gone either way though. Might be you in the fight next time.

We gotta fix this thing.

Are you feeling creative? Can you sew?

Who wants to run with this idea and get filthy stinkin’ rich by creating a patented new hospital gown design that works?

Million dollar idea there. You’re welcome!

Let me know if I can help!

Meanwhile, what’s YOUR biggest gripe with hospitals?

“Bene Vivere!”

ElderBob Schwarztrauber