( Seven minute read)

I am posting this blog having had a triple bypass at the age of 79 and believe it or not I am now recovering from the amputation of my left leg due to diabetes.

It’s also to thank my tortures Marina Hardy for her patience and Fabio lopes Dias for his kindness and gentle dressing of my stump on a daily bases.

Each and every one of us, in our lives will at sometime probably be hospitalised.

The first thing you will notice is that you just don’t appreciate how a hospital functions till you’re installed in room.

Useful practical things to bring:

To avoid vending machines rip off – your own electric kettle + coffee + mug

Reading material.

Charge and plug for your phone.

Note books and pen.

Fly swat.

Creams to keep your skin moist.

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Hospitals are notoriously loud, bright, and busy.

You are expected to heal, yet the telemetry alarms, hallway chatter, and constant check-ins make getting a solid block of sleep nearly impossible.

You might see a different doctor every day.

Important details can get lost in shift changes, leaving you or your family in the position of having to constantly repeat your medical.

Of course it would be totally unfair to say that the staff in hospital and rehab centres (because of their work) are decentis to you going through a major medical event.

Which is exhausting enough on its own, but navigating the transition from a hospital bed to a rehabilitation center introduces a whole different level of physical and emotional strain.

It can feel like your independence has been completely stripped away, you lose control over your own schedule.

There is one thing for certain in order to survive you must protect your dignity and set yourself some targets.

Many people think heading to a rehab center means “recovering in a nicer room.”

The reality is often a harsh awakening.

The goal in a rehab is functionality, you’re not ill.

You are suddenly expected to push your body to its absolute limits. Intensive physical and occupational therapy a day, even when you feel terrible.

The Clock Rules You:

You are woken up when it’s time for vitals or blood draws (often at 4:00 AM), fed when the tray arrives, and given medication on a strict clinical timeline.

Privacy Disappears:

Your body becomes public domain for a rotating shift of doctors, nurses, physical therapists, and nursing assistants.

The constant vulnerability can be incredibly wearing on your dignity.

In the hospital, you are focused on survival.

When you hit rehab, the adrenaline wears off, and the reality of your physical limitations sets in.

Realising you suddenly need help to use the bathroom or brush your teeth can trigger profound grief and frustration.

You are surrounded by other people who are also in pain, confused, or severely ill.

The ambient noise—call lights blinking, people calling for help, the smell of institutional cleaning products—can be deeply depressing.

Feeling:

You aren’t sick enough for the hospital, but you aren’t well enough to go home. It feels like being stuck in clinical purgatory.

Being institutionalized isolates you from your normal life, placing a heavy burden on your support system.

Family members often have to become project managers—juggling insurance barriers, managing discharge logistics, visiting constantly, and trying to keep your spirits up while exhausting themselves.

While the process is objectively grueling, the strict environment of a rehab center is specifically designed to maximize your long-term independence.

Remember that the therapists pushing you when you’re tired are often the single most important factor in getting you back to your own bed, your own schedule, and your own life.

All human comments appreciated. All like clicks and abuse chucked in the bin.

Contact: bobdillon33@gmail.com