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Letters from the farm

You can’t take it with you — at least from certain hospitals. A good example of this truism is a 53-year-old British man who "harassed and abused medical staff more than 40 times since January in his quest" for free medical items, such as surgical gowns and masks. He didn’t wish to leave any medical facility empty-handed. As a result of his fetish, according to Reuters, the man "has become the first person to be banned from every hospital in England and Wales." If he should ever require medical treatment in the future, his visits to hospitals or doctors will be strictly controlled and will require prior written consent from the government. The man’s story sounds very familiar. In fact, he could have been raised by my own mother. In her personal quest to pack "everything she paid for" whenever she checked out of a hospital, she often brought home many souvenirs. The main difference between the man in England and my mother, and why he might deserve some respect, is that he bothered to ask for the items in the first place. My mother’s consumer advice while I was growing up dealt primarily with two subjects — "Never pay full price for furniture" and, "Always take home the free stuff after a hospital stay." Specifically, she noted, "Anything they won’t use for the next patient." As a result of her hospital souvenir attitude, our bathroom shelves were filled to overflowing with open boxes of tissue, fever thermometers, toilet paper roll leftovers, lotion bottles and hospital-issued toothbrushes and toothpaste. We had substantial stacks of those little, plastic dishes, often used by the bedridden for brushing teeth, rinsing and spitting. To her credit, my mother did stop short of taking home bed linens, pillows, window coverings, floor tiles, room doors, gurneys and fluorescent light fixtures. She definitely had her limits. The following telltale signs might indicate if someone’s close friend, roommate or family member has taken hospital souvenir hunting to new heights: Upon closer examination, you realize the beautifully designed, stainless steel bowl holding brightly colored, fresh fruits on the kitchen counter is actually a hospital bedpan. When you can’t find a scissors and you really need one, someone taps you on the shoulder and hands you a scalpel. What appear to be gastric tubes, with their working ends removed, serve as bendable, plastic drinking straws on hot summer days. Blue or green surgical scrubs tend to be the uniform of the day — everyday. The blinding, bright lights over the kitchen table appear to belong to one of those fixtures often seen on the TV medical show, "ER." Many of the towels and washcloths in the house are stamped with hospitals’ names or initials. (Creative couples can actually have "His" and "Hers" towels by arranging separate medical stays at the Health Institute of Schenectady and Houston Emergency Room Services.) The final indicator would be the countless fever thermometers scattered throughout the house. Although they can’t be used for noting the higher temperatures of a beef roast or a batch of chocolate fudge, they do function perfectly as glass beverage stirrers.

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