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Hubby had his ECT this morning, it went fine, and he's sleeping peacefully. Which is what I expected, so I'm at work rather than at his bedside. Watching him sleep is very akin to watching grass grow.

I'll visit after work when he's slept off the anesthetic and recovered from the exhaustion of being hauled to UCLA and back, plus undergoing treatment and all the attendant hustle and bustle. Seriously, when I hear the nurses and aides (some of them) shuckin' and jivin' in the hallway, I wonder how they expect that kind of atmosphere to enhance healing. Particularly for stressed out, depressed, PTSD patients.

Perhaps some patients perceive it as a familiar ambiance and are comforted by it. And maybe some patients are so disoriented and confused that a little more is just what they need.

Sometimes I think I could make a fortune, roaming the halls and selling ear plugs and eyeshades. Hospitals are terribly noisy and bright. Hubby must be completely exhausted to be sleeping in spite of all that.

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