The only person who's bored is . . .

. . . a bore himself.

I think I first heard these words from Miss Cosgray, my third grade teacher at Broadway School in Clarksburg, West Virginia. I took the words immediately to heart and can honestly say that I've seldom been bored since hearing them nearly 45 years ago.

Many people assume that because I'm what Japanese-Americans call a "Gasa-Gasa girl," a restless, runaround gal looking for stimulation, that I'm easily bored. The truth is that I'm highly adaptable and can find stimulation in the most unlikely places - like a hospital room. Of course, when sleep is on the agenda for 60% of the day, it's easy to stay stimulated. But, now that I'm on steroids, I no longer have the need for ZZZZs.

I'm now going to utter those unspeakable, unthinkable words: I'm bored. I'm bored with being here. I'm bored with the food. I'm especially bored with my lack of mobility. I got in "trouble"this morning for removing my breathing tube and sneaking to the bathroom instead of using the bedside commode perched two feet from my bed. My resulting coughing, wheezing and hyperventilating were like a five-star alarm.

I did manage to walk 100 feet yesterday before collapsing in a chair. I was on my way to visit my nurse friend Melanie's station, but she sent me straight back to my room because of my low WBCs. So, basically, I've been isolated in my room since I arrived on Saturday night. My only forays out of the room are by gurney or wheelchair to the X-ray room, operating room (for bronchoscopy) or CT scan room.

In addition to Miss Cosgray's words of wisdom, one of my own life platitudes has been, "The secret to happiness is figuring out what kind of and how much stimulation you need and making sure you get it."

To that end, I'm seeking permission to attend the hematology patient's exercise class on the fifth floor tomorrow at 11 am. (I'll bring a portable oxygen tank with me, of course.) Believe me, it's the simplest of movement ("Raise your left arm, GOOD, now raise your right arm"), but I desperately need the social aspects of the class. The revolving door of medical professionals who visit my room is just not meeting my need for socialization.

I've had at least one non-family visitor each day, and it's lifted my spirits tremendously. So, if you have the time for a brief visit, I will undoubtedly still be here until this weekend and would look forward to the company.

I know my condition and my stay at Hotel Hope are temporary, but the uncertainty about recovery and release time frames are . . . a bore.