Hello Fellow Travelers!
As usual, I came up with a cancer related topic (This week: Brain Tumors and Eva Braun. I mean what other explanation could there be? Hitler's girlfriend? Clearly, to be known for all time as the "main squeeze" of possibly the worst mass murderer in history required some really poor judgement calls. ) She must have had some brain disorder, she was really into Adolph, too, something was wrong with her! I'm just saying...
Anyway, I was all set to go when this happened: At some point I collapsed, passed out. My son found me and called 911. When I came to I was covered in new cuts and bruises with no memory of getting them.
I had far too much C02 (what your body expels when you breathe) in my blood and I was poisoned. I woke up in an ambulance where I immediately and correctly answered several questions. When I arrived at the hospital, the fun really got started, because a search of my home (and of my blood) revealed that I took nothing, drank nothing, haven't in years, and was exceptionally healthy.
For the next week, the valiant staff of Diggity Health (Hot Diggity!), took my blood repeatedly (and literally) ran all kinds of tests, waited for and received all negative results, administered some other tests and received the same result. I got the distinct impression that the doctor attempting to solve this mystery, ("why did Jan fall? This time?") Dr. Randy Arai (forever lodged in MY head as "Dr. Pulmonary"), had run every test on me he could think of.
At the end of Friday Dr. Pulmonary admitted that he didn't have a freaking clue why I passed out. That's a direct quote too. Not a "freakin clue!" I loved it! I laughed pretty heartedly at that but it does beg the question, what if this happens again? I have enough to deal with. I'm a woman who needs answers! STAT! I have no idea what STAT even is but I always wanted to say it! Dr. Pulmonary suggested bringing an endocrinologist into the loop. I'm not even sure what that is! OK, I looked briefly into endocrines, let's order one up!
What I did understand was bad food and PT (Physical Therapy) both of which appeared (3) times a day like clockwork. I love everything about therapy and I never, ever eat bad food. I make fun out of bad food and let me tell you, as far as bad-food comedy goes the hospital is a veritable cornucopia. It gives new meaning to the term "yuk fest" Hospital food is the Toronto Mayor of jokes: it's the gift that keeps on giving. I have a really discriminating palate, I'm highly attuned to pointing out any culinary mediocrity. Commenting about crappy food? Really? This is what I was meant for!
By the second evening the nurses were just "showing" me the plates. The Ensure bottles were looking pretty good! I'd rather not eat than eat something I actively dislike. As far as any kind of PT? Bring it! I received (and continue to receive) compliments on my increasing muscle tone and strength, thanks to Bridgit's killer balancing exercises (thank you Ms. Moore!).
You know what happens when eating is really difficult and the food available is really unappealing? I just don't eat! I write more but I don't think eating for the sake of eating serves any purpose! But what has struck me the most is how closely my actual adventures are mirroring my desired ones. I really want my PS and son to take a trip. I want to go to a hospital and focus solely on my restart, rehab, whatever. It's time! I don't care if I eat, I'll sleep when I'm dead, I don't need a vacation. I need to walk and all the food in all the hospitals in America won't make me walk again!
But walk again I will. Ms. Moore and my Patient Spouse will see to that! I will do whatever is necessary and when I fight my way up the hill just to discover a bunch of slow, motorized scooters and little chairs that creep up the hallway ever so slowly, and instantly diminish the value of your home, I'll write about that too because it's BS!
Hopefully, there is something out there that will allow me to get from point (a) to point (b). I'll never stop looking for a solution. So do your worst! Serve me some "green" beans fried with jalapeno slices (yes, I said jalapeno slices. That's beyond lazy - those two items together are just wrong (and gray). Yet, there they were!) I have impeccable tastes and no appetite. I've lost all interest in antiques. I'm only interested in things that work or look like they work or at least don't collect dust. I no longer collect or save anything except stuff for kids.
All shapes I now find appealing (food/cars/housing) are round or oval (cookies/new Mercedes/beach houses), no straight edges I can cut myself on, no corners to collect dust.
The only decor items I look at are modern and streamlined. I am the "Patient of the Future", this isn't the end of the road for me it's somewhere in the middle of a very big adventure. Thanks to a few friends, HA, MEB, & Paul (NOT McCartney!), I am figuring this out. I may have "lost my place is space", as one neuropsychologist expressed it, but I'm finding a better one.
For the next week, the valiant staff of Diggity Health (Hot Diggity!), took my blood repeatedly (and literally) ran all kinds of tests, waited for and received all negative results, administered some other tests and received the same result. I got the distinct impression that the doctor attempting to solve this mystery, ("why did Jan fall? This time?") Dr. Randy Arai (forever lodged in MY head as "Dr. Pulmonary"), had run every test on me he could think of.
At the end of Friday Dr. Pulmonary admitted that he didn't have a freaking clue why I passed out. That's a direct quote too. Not a "freakin clue!" I loved it! I laughed pretty heartedly at that but it does beg the question, what if this happens again? I have enough to deal with. I'm a woman who needs answers! STAT! I have no idea what STAT even is but I always wanted to say it! Dr. Pulmonary suggested bringing an endocrinologist into the loop. I'm not even sure what that is! OK, I looked briefly into endocrines, let's order one up!
What I did understand was bad food and PT (Physical Therapy) both of which appeared (3) times a day like clockwork. I love everything about therapy and I never, ever eat bad food. I make fun out of bad food and let me tell you, as far as bad-food comedy goes the hospital is a veritable cornucopia. It gives new meaning to the term "yuk fest" Hospital food is the Toronto Mayor of jokes: it's the gift that keeps on giving. I have a really discriminating palate, I'm highly attuned to pointing out any culinary mediocrity. Commenting about crappy food? Really? This is what I was meant for!
By the second evening the nurses were just "showing" me the plates. The Ensure bottles were looking pretty good! I'd rather not eat than eat something I actively dislike. As far as any kind of PT? Bring it! I received (and continue to receive) compliments on my increasing muscle tone and strength, thanks to Bridgit's killer balancing exercises (thank you Ms. Moore!).
You know what happens when eating is really difficult and the food available is really unappealing? I just don't eat! I write more but I don't think eating for the sake of eating serves any purpose! But what has struck me the most is how closely my actual adventures are mirroring my desired ones. I really want my PS and son to take a trip. I want to go to a hospital and focus solely on my restart, rehab, whatever. It's time! I don't care if I eat, I'll sleep when I'm dead, I don't need a vacation. I need to walk and all the food in all the hospitals in America won't make me walk again!
But walk again I will. Ms. Moore and my Patient Spouse will see to that! I will do whatever is necessary and when I fight my way up the hill just to discover a bunch of slow, motorized scooters and little chairs that creep up the hallway ever so slowly, and instantly diminish the value of your home, I'll write about that too because it's BS!
Hopefully, there is something out there that will allow me to get from point (a) to point (b). I'll never stop looking for a solution. So do your worst! Serve me some "green" beans fried with jalapeno slices (yes, I said jalapeno slices. That's beyond lazy - those two items together are just wrong (and gray). Yet, there they were!) I have impeccable tastes and no appetite. I've lost all interest in antiques. I'm only interested in things that work or look like they work or at least don't collect dust. I no longer collect or save anything except stuff for kids.
All shapes I now find appealing (food/cars/housing) are round or oval (cookies/new Mercedes/beach houses), no straight edges I can cut myself on, no corners to collect dust.
The only decor items I look at are modern and streamlined. I am the "Patient of the Future", this isn't the end of the road for me it's somewhere in the middle of a very big adventure. Thanks to a few friends, HA, MEB, & Paul (NOT McCartney!), I am figuring this out. I may have "lost my place is space", as one neuropsychologist expressed it, but I'm finding a better one.
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