What’s wrong with me, that I’ve been running fevers since last Thursday?
What’s wrong with me, that they admitted me to a regular room in the hospital from the Emergency Room on Monday and then had Jean move me the next morning to a weird-looking, isolated-feeling, private room all the way down the hall?
What’s wrong with me, that they gave me one infusion of intravenous antibiotics?
What’s wrong with me that I couldn’t figure out how to make that machine stop its annoyingly loud beeping for about an hour after the infusion was complete?
What’s wrong with me that I’ve been using the game “Hangman” as a way to distract myself since I was a little kid?
What’s wrong with me that I thought I could figure out how to use the thermometer in my room by myself?
What wrong with me that I converted that result to Fahrenheit, decided I was fever free, and reported that to people I know? What’s wrong with me that I’m confessing, now, that I actually was not using that thermometer correctly and that my fever has never gone down to normal since last Thursday without the help of Tylenol?
What’s wrong with me that these friggin’ fevers won’t go away?
What’s wrong with me that I, the patient, wrote stuff on the whiteboard in my hospital room?
What’s wrong with me that they sent me down for an echocardiogram, where I was lucky enough to run into the amazingly wonderful Eva, my favorite person who works there?
What’s wrong with me that I took these pictures of Eva’s Apple Watch?
What’s wrong with me that I sang for Eva during the echocardiogram? What wrong with me that when I found out she also loves to sing and sings alto that I suggested we sing together some time in the future?
What’s wrong with me that I keep asking what’s wrong with me? I should know, from my experience as a clinical social worker, that this is a much more useful question:
What’s right with me?
There must be some things right with me, because they sent me home from the hospital last night, even though my fevers haven’t gone away. Here’s what is most likely NOT wrong with me: Endocarditis. I’m all right with that. My doctors will call if any tests show what’s causing these fevers.
What’s the right music for this “What’s wrong with me?” post?
Thanks to Eva, Miss Peggy Lee, all the other people who helped me make this post right, and thanks to you — of course! — for reading it.