I have "good news" and "bad news". The "good news" is I'm going to live; the "bad news" is I'm going to live.
I have gone undercover as a quality control inspector for several local emergency rooms and a hospital. I can tell you how many black dots are contained in a single ceiling tile in at least two emergency rooms as well as who has the best looking male nurses. (They still can't get an I.V. in me, but the scenery is nice.)
The pain has been very difficult, as has temporarily losing my eyesight and respiratory involvement. Finally couldn't take it any longer and let them give me drugs. Drugs make everything difficult. You're still in pain, you just can't verbalize the level of pain, so they give you more drugs. I love the question, "On a scale of 1 - 10 how bad is your pain?" How can you believe anything someone already on drugs tells you? I think I said 42 on several occasions.
I just don't understand how drugs could ever be called recreational. Not my idea of fun. I asked my doctor if next time we could fore go the hospitalization and drugs and just send me to the beach with a frosty Margarita.
I am home and may be down for the next two weeks or so. I'm getting up a little every day and wanted to blog immediately and thank you all for your cards and emails. (My husband reads them to me - refuses to blog for me though!) You are a wonderful group of extremely supportive people and I have missed you all.
I owe you so many personal answers and I hope you understand that it will take me some time to play catch up. I am one tough old broad, so don't worry about me. I will be swinging the mighty blogging sword again soon.
Now, just a few observations. I would like to thank the writers for striking just when I've had to stay in bed with a television as my companion. I thought I could catch up on my soaps, but they are all using flash backs that are sixteen years old - approximately the last time I watched a soap.
The new movie advertised most often is "The Bucket." A movie about two guys doing all the things they have ever wanted to do before they kick the bucket. A really inspiring movie to help you get back on your feet, reminding you that you too may be kicking the bucket.
I can tell you the number of minutes in each hour of television devoted to commercials, as well as how many of those commercials deal with food.
I am a firm believer in signs from God. So, Janice (Cow Hampshire)
, when I opened my eyes in one of my emergency visits and the name tag on the doctor read "Webster" I knew I was going to live. I tried to crack a dictionary joke, but he had heard them all.
I was much more ill than I thought, thank heaven they don't let you have a mirror. I know I was really ill because yesterday my husband made me update my will. I was resistant until I looked in that mirror and instead of my mother looking back at me it was my grandmother. Ugh!
You will probably see me testifying before Congress, as they've loaded me up with more steroids than all the accused baseball players combined. Another nasty drug. Although I know they are not the same type of steroids, I have to wonder why anyone would take them voluntarily. If my husband goes missing it will probably have something to do with "roid rage."Jasia (Creative Gene)
, thank you for using my suggestion for the COG. It made me feel I was still a part of our community. I will blog this one, it will just be late.
Also, my love and admiration to my husband. He has had to miss a lot of work to care for me. He has shouldered the burden of doing everything (cooking, cleaning, shopping, nursing) and he has done it without complaint. He has done it when I have been so cranky I couldn't stand myself. On several occasions I've had to use my cell phone to call him in another room of the house to tell him how sorry I was that I was so impossible to live with.
And a gentle reminder. Never take your good health for granted. I know from experience you can be standing one moment and flat on your back in an emergency room the next.
I have now exceeded my time sitting up, so it's back to bed.
P.S. Please excuse the fact my tenses are all over the place, I probably spelled everything wrong and the post makes very little sense. Wait, wasn't that how I blogged before I got sick?