Hospital Gowns & America Have A Long Way To Go
On Unexpected Hospital Stays and Blatant Racism
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It’s been…quite a few interesting few weeks. Not just for me but for many of us, specifically my readers who are Black and Queer.
This happened:
and although it’s just a scoopful of folks, these stats showed us a few reasons why:
and it caused a flurry of people to be really sad, incredibly angry, (some people are hella happy), and a bunch of other feelings. Lots of people circulated the quote from Mr. X talking about the Black woman being the most disrespected woman in America. It arrived a lot earlier than it usually does—it gets the most play during Black History Month and Mother’s Day but hey, fitting to the times for it’s early use huh? The disrespect in question to some was a surprise, to many it was a reminder, and to a whole lot it was the opportunity to say “Okay…cool. If that’s how you see us I’ll be taking the next few years to focus on myself and my people. I’ll be burning that cape you always want to put on me and putting my phone on permanent DND.”
Before, during, and after all this was happening, I was also dealing with this:
What was supposed to be a regular Friday morning turned into a medical emergency complete with extreme pain, lots of surprises, tons of poking and prodding, and my first-ever extended stay at a hospital.
There are a few films that come to mind when I think about hospitals—Denzel trying to save his son’s life in John Q, Sandra Bullock lying for love in While You Were Sleeping, and Brittany Murphy desperately clinging to the idea of normalcy in Girl, Interrupted.
I don’t have too much experience with hospitals so connecting to them on a pop culture level—at first—was hard to do. Until I thought of the January 27 1994 episode of Absolutely Fabulous called “Hospital”.
It’s the first episode of the second season and probably one of my top 3 episodes in the entire series. I can quote ABFAB like the back of my hand, at any point you’ll hear me say “Ulti—MATIMUM?!” or “WHY NOT LET HER GO TO MOROCCO WE’RE GOING TO MARRAKECH?!” for no reason at all. It was one of the first British TV shows I found when I was a kid and I never let it go.
I hated being in the hospital. I hated being sick and not in charge of my own body. I hated that multiple people knew what was wrong with me before I did. I hated every mouse click on their screens that had silence behind it. I couldn’t stand every scribble on an Ipad or a flimsy notebook that was no doubt filled with the information of other patients and their thoughts and opinions on us all.
I hated the glass door with the pastel curtain, making me feel like a weird little hamster that they’d check in on from time to time. I hated feeling that after they left my bedside to tell me they still had no information on my X-rays, scans, ultrasounds, and any other type of bodily invasion that they likely huddled around a monitor to keep playing some guessing game with my chart and information.
I hated those stupid gowns that barely fit my body. I hated the bed that I just couldn’t get comfortable in. I hated the socks that were slipped on my cold feet with care, and at certain points I even hated the optimism from the kind hearted nurses that took care of me through the nights.
I wanted to fast forward through it all, the same way I hit rewind on episodes of ABFAB where I just need to hear the joke I’ve heard a million times again and again—but I couldn’t. I had to stay in the moments, take it all on, and wait for it to pass in the time it was meant to.
And it did, at least the first phase of it did. Eventually I felt better, they gave me the information they could and sent me on my way. I didn’t leave the room they put me in for a few days. I hadn’t a clue that I was in the hospital hospital, until they discharged me. When I walked with my partner and passed other rooms, nurses stations, supply closets—that’s when it hit me just how serious things were and how traumatizing it truly was for me.
I settled in back at home only for the news of the election to hit a few days later.
To leave one horrid moment and have it followed by one shared with millions is wild. I had so much faith in people. There was so much in me that thought it would all go right, but—again—it all went so wrong.
As the thinkpieces rolled out in the days following, my mind went right to a scene from the canceled too soon series, Lovecraft Country. In episode 3 (there is only one season) entitled Holy Ghost, a party at Leti’s new house (played by Jurnee Smollett) is interrupted when the white neighbors put a burning cross in their yard.
It’s a very loud statement of “We don’t fucking want you and all these niggas in our neighborhood unless you’re working for one of us, and even then, so get the fuck out.” The responses from the Black folks in the party range from fear, to sadness, to confusion…all things that I Imagine were felt by Black folks as this Election night ticked on.
But there was also anger. A beautiful, strong, VALID, refreshing ANGER.
In one of the most incredible scenes in television that I have ever seen in my life, Leti takes a bat and runs outside. She’s followed by other folks who take their guns and stand behind her as she crashes car windows, breaks off rear view mirrors, and bashes on doors—all while looking at the white folks who stand across the street staring at her as she does.
What adds to it is the song playing, Take It Back by Dorinda Clark-Cole. I grew up in the church as we all know, I battle with my feelings about the Black church as a whole but still am solid in the relationship I’ve come to have with the God I know. But, there is something about a gospel song that can make any feeling hit so much harder.
So much of these past few weeks have sucked. I wanted to scream at doctors like Denzel in John Q, felt grateful to have love like Sandra in While You Were Sleeping, wanted the pain to just end like Brittany in Girl, Interrupted, felt like laughing at it all like Eddie in ABFAB, and wanted to fight like Jurnee in Lovecraft Country.
I’ve scheduled this post to publish while I enter the next phase of this little medical journey I’m on.
When it’s shared with the world, I will be in a space of uncertainty, trusting a medical team and the love of those closest to me to hold me through the next steps.
There’s a certain vulnerability in writing about something so personal while still in the midst of it—sharing my thoughts, fears, and hopes before I have all the answers. But in doing it, I really hope to honor the journey. One thing I have learned through all this though? To ask if I can bring my own robe for after my surgery, cos’ the ones they have now certainly aren’t doing the fucking job.
My Letterboxd is your new favorite place, but here are some movies involving hospitals that I dig (that sounds weird but whatever you get it)
While You Were Sleeping
John Q
One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest
50/50
Extras:
I’m stuggling with rewatching Lovecraft Country because of the Mr. Majors of it all but gosh do I wanna see that series again from top to bottom.
A young Helena Bonham Carter plays Eddie’s daughter in the episode while she’s in her hospital induced dream!
What I Watched
Upper Middle Bogan
I’m a huge fan of Australian Comedy TV (Fisk, Kath & Kim) and Netflix recommended this one to me so of course I watched and I dig it!
We’re Here To Help podcast
I wanted to love this, I really did. But it is just so wrapped up in the story of turning to queerness when men do you wrong and it just…really made me disconnect. It is beautifully shot tho’
Rivals
Fucking Incredible. No Fucking Notes.
Skincare
We Grown Now
This film is beautiful. It’s gorgeous. Minhal Baig did an incredible job directing this and the actors are all spectacular. No fucking notes.
The Substance
You
Are we going to talk about how this needs to come back ASAP so we can prove that Love isn’t dead (if that’s the last seasons tagline they fucking owe me)
What I Re-Watched
True Blood
I don’t know why but I’m on Season Three already and wow forgot how much I loved the folks of Bon Temps.
Sex and The City
Insecure
Superstore
What I Listened To
What I Read
Desiree Akhavan’s memoir You’re Embarassing Yourself—stories of love, lust, and movies. I didn’t even know it was out and she's my favorite director! It was really good and It is always fly to read queer POC memoirs from my favs.
The book Rivals from Jilly Cooper. We’ll I’ve been listening to it because I watched the show. I’m not an audiobook girlie but I’m trying…I have started chapter two over approximatly 30 times.
My partner told me about Reparations Club! and let’s just say my cart is filled and it’s about to be a cozy crew bookish Winter in our house.
A Photo I Took
I have a Canon T50 Film Camera that I really love & these are some of the images that have come from it <3
If You Liked This Edition of Hi Shelli!
Here’s another you might really fuck with…
Etc.
I’m excited the weather has finally turned so I can wear cute fits.
It’s Holiday movie time and yes that includes watch Love, Actually—don’t be a snob.
Kitten heels are back, which means the 90s are back, which means we’re close to someone pitching a Clueless remake and so help me God I’ll go to Hollywood and set fire to every script that has the words “As If!” in it.
When I originally posted this I referenced Sleeping In Seattle—I CONFUSED MY WHITE WOMEN AND SLEEPING TITLED FILMS!—I meant to say While You Were Sleeping. All is right now and I won’t be apologizing to Nora Ephron about it either.
Thank you so much for reading Hi Shelli!
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‘kaythxbi!
