The Hospital, otherwise known as Heaven.

For the past three days my parents have been dying to go to someplace they call “home”.  Wow, I have only been earthified for three days and it is already abundantly clear that my so-called caretakers are utter morons.  Why in the name of everything that makes life outside the uterus fantastic would anyone want to leave the hospital?  I have two words to my so-called Mom and Dad- ABORT MISSION.

Seriously, the hospital is like heaven on earth.  For one, my father gets to sleep on a piece of furniture that must have been invented by Edison’s son, as its design is flawless.. I mean the the entire chair folds out into a bed the size of his torso. To be honest, I would give my yet to descend right nut to sleep on a chair that is truly fit for a king. Of course, beyond the obvious luxurious accommodations, the hospital also has the best service.  Right now, it is 6:00 am and the nurses have stopped by four times in the last seven hours.  Incredible I tell you.  Its not like these nurses just peek their head in either.  Oh no, that would be far too easy.  These nurses turn on all the lights and ask in very audible voices, “Is everyone doing okay?”  They even ask my father if he needs anything while he sleeps.  He is clearly not very thankful for this, as upon their departure, he always grumbles “Why can’t they just leave us alone!  All I need is some sleep.”  As someone who was alone, sleeping in a pool of urine for the 8 and ½ months, I love the attention and the company these nurses provide.  My father’s irrational behavior can only be defined as selfish.  Anyways, in order to make sure my father’s egotism does not reflect poorly on me, I make sure to let the nurse’s know how appreciative I am via a good twenty minute thank you cry.  I conduct these symphonies immediately after they leave.  Finally, and most importantly, my mother is treated like a princess.  I simply can’t understand why she would ever even consider leaving.  Beyond the above mentioned amenities, the Doctors insist that Mom not move a muscle.  They are so attuned to her needs that despite the fact that she makes it abundantly clear that she is able to walk to the bathroom herself, the Doctors insist that she not burden herself with such a laborious chore.  Instead, to adhere to here needs, they, without fail, quickly bring her a beautiful, shiny silver potty pot.  What a treat!  I’m not sure, but I bet it is made of pure sterling silver.  Man, she is one lucky women.  I get plastic and cotton strapped around me like a waist noose, and Mom.. .She gets sterling silver.  Yet, what do I know?  Mom hates the silver pot, Dad proclaims that his throne has screwed up his back and after three days of living the high life Mom and Dad are getting the "Hell out of the Hospital." Of course, despite my obvious disapproval of this decision, it's quite clear that I have little say in the matter. Unfazed by my tears, Dad simply seizes me, straps me to some chair and hauled me out like an infant in a car seat. So much for family decisions! Good bye professional nurses! Good bye luxury! Hello home. Or should I say, hello life with a bunch of f'n amateurs.