There are certain days in life when you think, “Yes, today is the day I make a healthy choice.” You know. Drink more water, eat fewer chips, cut down on energy drinks that could probably power a lawn mower. But fate has a sense of humor.

I decided to stop drinking Red Bull on a day I thought would be light, easy, just a quick few hours at the hospital accompanying someone. Easy in and out. A couple of waiting room chairs, a vending machine snack, a halfhearted scroll through my phone. That was the plan.

Reality? The hours stretched. The day stretched. The waiting room chairs started feeling like medieval torture devices designed by someone who hated backs. And then it was late at night with no wings, no wings at all.

Here’s the thing about hospitals: they exist in a time warp. An hour can feel like a day, and a day can collapse into the eternal now. You start noticing things like the rhythm of nurses’ sneakers squeaking on linoleum, the subtle competition over who controls the waiting room TV, the endless parade of coffee cups clutched like life preservers.

And me? I was the caffeine-free cheerleader who needed pom-poms powered by sheer will. Let me tell you: it is hard to keep spirits up at 11 PM when your body is screaming, “We should be horizontal, watching trashy TV, and fueled by 160 mg of caffeine.”

So yes, maybe hospitals are motivators for making better choices: eat better, breathe deeper, value life. But let’s be real. Sometimes you need the Red Bull to play Florence Nightingale’s backup dancer.

Lesson of the day: never pick a hospital marathon as the day to go caffeine-cold-turkey. Health goals are noble, but they should be timed better than a sitcom laugh track. Next time I’ll aim for a lazy Sunday, not the day I’m supposed to be rallying deep into the night in a fluorescent-lit purgatory.