Packing for a Hospital Stay Is Not Packing for a Vacation

If you’re a senior, chances are you’ve spent time in a hospital—or you will. Packing for a long hospital stay is a little like packing for vacation—except the destination is not amusement.

Unless you find watching nurses change IVs, check vitals, and silence irritating monitors entertaining, you’re on your own.

During Hubby’s recent two-day stay, I brought playing cards and trivia cards. The playing cards were useless—we play card games on our devices (solitaire for him, spades for me). The trivia cards were more successful, at least for a while. You can only play trivia so long before getting bored.

Games we almost have (or used to)

Yesterday I did the rounds of the thrift shops and nearly bought a Trivial Pursuit game. The only thing that stopped me was the lack of a price. I should have looked more closely at the games section, but that feels suspiciously like buying back things we donated during downsizing. Besides, the box was really heavy.

Our trivia game on the left. Much smaller and lighter than Trivfial Pursuit

We do have a small travel dominoes set—except when the movers needed something to shim the bed supports, we donated six dominoes to the cause.

There’s always Yahtzee, but dice are noisy. Of course, there are hundreds of online versions, which solves that problem nicely.

Technology: a mixed blessing

I brought my PC last time so I could work on my book and blog, but it’s heavy. A smaller device—or at least a keypad for my iPad—would be better. And then there’s the WiFi – an unsecured network. Hubby, being technical, insists we shouldn’t connect even briefly because hospitals are notorious hunting grounds for digital trolls and worse. So now he’s researching free VPNs while I nod wisely.  (At least that doesn’t take space in your suitcase).

Hospital TV, however, is a lost cause. No DVR. No pausing. No time-shifted viewing. You watch what’s on, when it’s on, commercials and all—which means daytime television or Hallmark movies in their full, commercial-laden glory.

Food: lower your expectations further

Then there’s the cafeteria.

We didn’t expect to be there for dinner, so nothing had been ordered. Dinner in the cafeteria is self-serve, and I swear the food had been sitting out since today’s, or even last week’s, lunch. After looking at the steam table with gloppy red stuff (spaghetti casserole), gloppy yellow stuff (Mexican casserole), and gloppy green stuff (vegetable medley), the hamburger seemed like the safest choice, but the bun was rock hard, and the meat was dry.

You know hospital food is bad when the nurse suggests that in the future you pack your own meals.

So now I’ll be bringing a cooler with food for the day. I wonder if they have a microwave.

The things they say to bring

Google lists suggest bringing personal items like framed photos of family and pets. In Hubby’s last room, there was barely enough shelf space for his water cup.

Every time I passed the gift shop, I was tempted by the coloring books. I do like to color, but none appealed to me, and I’d have to buy pencils or crayons too. Still, it gave me the idea to pack my own coloring book—or try a coloring app. One of my friends loves them. There really is an app for everything.

Crossword puzzles are another option. The New York Times has an online version, which could keep me busy for hours.

The absurd conclusion

It’s a good thing hospitals don’t have a luggage weight limit. Between toiletries, bedding, food, and amusements, I’m sure I’ll exceed the 50 pounds airlines allow.

By the time we’re packed, our car is going to look like the Griswolds’ station wagon in National Lampoon’s Vacation.

Twenty years ago, when Hubby had both knees replaced and spent weeks in rehab, I bought a portable DVD player. It was great. We donated it five years ago when we moved here—along with the DVDs. I briefly considered buying another one, but Hubby reminded me he can stream movies on his phone.

Problem solved.

I still have a couple of weeks to make the perfect list. Or better yet, I’ll let AI hone it—so I don’t have to carry half the household just to survive a hospital stay.

Epilogue

In our case, the reason for the upcoming hospital stay is serious (bypass operation)—but it was caught early, the prognosis is very good, and there’s a lot of confidence in the outcome. That knowledge changes everything.

Hospital stays are never pleasant, but they’re also temporary. What matters most isn’t whether we packed the perfect game or brought enough pillows—it’s coming out the other side healthier, stronger, and a little less tired than before.

If making lists and planning small comforts helps pass the time, then it’s worth doing. And if nothing else, it gives seniors something familiar to focus on in a place that feels anything but.

References

Here's my Attempt at Making a Hospital Room Cozy so I can endure the next month here. Reddit.com, Some good tips. I had no idea you could bring plants, etc. Better check with the hospital. By the way - couldn't have done that in Dave's room, it only had an extra two feet on each side of the bed. Hopefully, his room is bigger this time.

The woman in this post brought a ukulele. We'd be tempted, but I can't believe the hospital would allow that. Turns out, she was in bed rest in the High Risk OB floor and since they have long stays, they let people make their rooms comfy.