Disclaimer: This text is based on true events and is as satirical as the German healthcare system. But No, I'm not in hospital.
Day 1: Welcome
You arrive, surprise the staff with your presence ("Oh, you're here today?") and get your first adventure: finding a bed! The much sought-after anti-decubitus mattress will of course only be ordered once you have been officially admitted. Delivery time: 1-3 working days. Amazon Prime? Not a chance.
Day 2: Diagnosis of device shortage
Medical history. Unfortunately, all the CO₂ measuring devices are currently "in use". But there's an ECG appointment - at least that's something. Maybe at least the ECG will be done with an old Gameboy.
Day 3: Capnometry - finally
Tonight is finally the night: capnometry! Finally measuring blood gases again. Why the ophthalmologist needs CO₂ values remains a mystery. Maybe because he's also secretly a surgeon and neurologist? MRI appointment? "I don't know anything about that, you'll have to discuss it with the senior consultant." But he's not back until Monday. Until then: cliffhanger.
Day 4: Appointment roulette
Friday. MRI is now planned - but of course nothing can be done today. Monday is already full, and at the weekend? There are only emergencies. For Tuesday you're on "right at 8 o'clock". Spoiler: It won't stay that way.
Day 5 & 6: Weekend - The hospital sleeps
Nobody works on Saturday. Not on Sunday either. Maybe there's a secret brunch for carers, but patients aren't invited.
Day 7: The big wait
Your MRI appointment has been postponed to 12 noon. Enjoy the day! (With hospital food? Have fun. Is that vegan? No? Never mind, it won't fit through the PEG anyway).
Day 8: The big transport
MRI at last! On the way there, the ventilation tube gets stuck on the door frame. After half a minute, someone asks: "What's that annoying alarm?" Maybe some device from "our patient"? Arrived at the MRI: Appointment postponed to 18:30. At 6 pm: "Appointment brought forward, we have to leave immediately!" Efficiency made in Germany.
Day 9: Diagnosis - the main thing is rare
Visit at 9.30 a.m. MRI unremarkable. Now you still need an sMRI. This will even be done today, because you'll probably want to go home again at some point.
Day 10: An answer at last
The sMRI shows nothing earth-shattering. Diagnosis: Bing-Horton syndrome. Not curable, not treatable - but at least it doesn't lead to death, it just makes you wish you were dead during the attacks. Hence the affectionate nickname "suicide headache". But don't worry: "How would you kill yourself, hahaha."
I have another appointment with the ophthalmologist in the afternoon. Nobody here still knows about the potassium deficiency you're here for. You discharge yourself - you don't have to sign, how could you? Hahaha
And in the end, the realisation remains: anyone who is healthy has simply never been in hospital long enough.
