✨ PART 2: Three Days in the Hallway — The Breaking Point

islandcapricornmil
Dec 5, 2025
2 min read

By Day Two, I realized I had not seen a doctor since the moment I arrived. My neuropathy was worsening — buzzing, vibrating, climbing up my legs — and I hadn’t slept at all. The hallway lights stayed on. The noise never stopped. The sickness surrounding me never eased.

I watched nurses shift in and out, doing their best, but I could feel myself declining. I kept asking if I could be monitored at home or moved somewhere quieter. I was told the doctor would come “soon.”

But “soon” never came.

My wristbands — allergy alerts, fall risk warnings — told a story all by themselves. I couldn’t go to the bathroom without an escort because I had passed out multiple times recently. My legs went numb every time I laid back down.

By Sunday at 10 a.m., my IV bags were finished and unplugged, yet I was still lying under the same bright hallway light, still waiting for someone to acknowledge how depleted I was. Days without sleep will do that — it breaks you down layer by layer.

The environment itself became trauma:

Constant alarms
Coughing, vomiting, yelling
Security guards rushing past
Sharing one restroom with countless sick patients
No privacy
No rest
No relief

I told the nurses I thought I was developing a bedsore. They called the doctor. I waited an hour. Then another. Then another.

My family called shocked that I was still in the same spot.

And finally — I was done.

I asked to be discharged. I waited four more hours for a doctor I never saw again, and when my husband arrived, he found me exhausted, foggy, and emotionally drained.

I signed myself out.

And the moment I got home, something incredible happened:

I haven’t needed insulin since — and my glucose has been steady around 150.

My neuropathy calmed. I slept. I showered. I moved. I breathed. I felt human again.