Why Don’t We Speak Up?
Sometimes, I wonder. Are we growing up as sheep? Can’t we speak up to set things right?
Most of the time, these days, I order groceries on line and, after they are assembled, I drive to the store, and they are delivered to my car door.
Oxygen 73%. Heart rate 145. Probably time to call the doctor. I remember when, having a zoom meeting with my PCP, I was reading him my “numbers.” Weight. Blood pressure. Temp. Oxygen 80%. My doc’s response was “Get here, right now!” That memory helped me remember that 73% was really not acceptable. I called my doc’s office; it was Sunday. So I talked with the on-call doc who gave me a choice. Call an ambulance and let the ENTs treat me, or, go to the ER. That made little sense to me. What the ambulance would do, I reasoned, was send me to the ER. So, I asked Daughter #1 to take me.
At my favorite hospital’s ER, I was ushered into an ER examination room; ushered in before three people who had been waiting for some time. They were not happy.
Machines were attached. The oxygen started. Blood work was taken, and the port was left in my right arm for future blood work and injections. I’m not allowed to sit on couches or soft chairs; the bed was lumpy, but soft. So, I spent a lot of time in a “hard” chair. The next place for me should have been the cardiac unit. The hospital, however, was slammed with patients, so I spent my first night in the ER, sitting up in the hard chair, leaning against the bed’s mattress that had been moved to an upright position.
More tests were ordered and accomplished. Chest x-ray. Injected lasix removed excess fluids in my legs. And, through it all, I was able to sleep and doze until morning. With no phone in the room, getting supper and breakfast ordered was a push up. But, it arrived, and it was quite good. We hear so many stories about hospital food, but none of them would fit this day.
My second full day in the ER was also filled with tests and recording blood oxygen levels, etc. Supper time came and went. Still there was no room in the cardiac unit. I’d ordered my supper. It never came. At 9 pm, transport moved me to the cardiac unit – without supper. Now, because I have diabetes, I do need to eat on a fairly regular basis. And, now I was going to a different pace in the hospital with supper. The young transport person assured me that he would get my supper from the ER and bring it to the fifth floor cardiac unit. I never saw him, again.
My nurse and her assistant managed to get something for me to eat at about 11 o’clock- a vegetable salad and a small pudding (that had the only protein in the meal). That got me through to the morning. I was told that I could have nothing by mouth after midnight, buy no one knew why. I had not been told of any pending anything in the morning. There was nothing in the computer. We all decided it must be a secret.
The difference between the ER situation and the cardiac unit was dramatic. The bed was a new breed, and I could choose how hard I wanted the bed to be. The aide asked me to get onto the bed and, when I did, she weighed me! My room had a carpeted bathroom. The room had a small couch and matching chair that could recline. Still, I found it necessary to spend most of my time in the folding hard chair.
Even in the hospital, I prepared for bed at midnight. I actually was able to sleep in the bed. For a little while, at least. At 1 am, I was awakened by a phlebotomist wanting to take fresh blood. “No, he could not take it from the port in my right arm. It had to be from a new puncture.”
It seemed that I’d just returned to sleeping when, at 3 am, transport showed up to take me for a CAT scan. Although it to took only a few minutes, I did not return to sleeping when back in my room. I was beginning to feel the difficulty of not having substantial protein in the last few hours. Still, no one knew why I could have nothing by mouth after midnight. By 10 o’clock, I was ready to eat the furniture in the room. So, I called the nurses station to let them know that if I didn’t get something to eat soon, they could plan on scraping me from the floor. I was finally given permission to order food.
Although food service had some delivery problems, and they generally can’t tell the difference between egg whites and whole eggs, the food was quite good. They have a crusted tilapia that might be served by the best restaurants. I was on a carb limited diet and had plenty to eat.
My mother always said, “It’s an ill wind that blows no good.” This stay in the hospital was no different. No one wants to be in the hospital. While there, I learned a great deal about the AFIB problem and it’s management that brought me to the ER.
But, while there, I met great people. Great doctors and nursing staff. Cardiologists. General practitioners. Housekeeping. Transport people. Specialists such as the CAT scan folks. Everyone was helpful, compassionate, thorough, kind, competent.
If you’ve read the blogs about Isaac from Ghana, you’ll find this interesting. One day, as my housekeeper, Mary, was working I asked her about her “home” country. She, too, is from Ghana. How exciting is this! I now know two people from Ghana.
Discharge came on Wednesday about 3. Change of medicines. Instructions to keep a chart of everything that was charted by hospital staff. Work at keeping the excessive fluids out of my body. Mild exercise – Nora (PT) will know what to do. It seems that I will have a lot more learning ahead for this Greater diligence with regard to other health issues.
At home, I’ve begun wondering what health issues I’ll be dealing with in the future. Time will tell.
Be Safe and Be Well
The Cranky Crone
Thoughtful comments are appreciated.
Dear Readers,
Please accept my apology for not have a blog for you to read, today. Life happens, and sometimes we don’t get to do what we hope. But, God willing and the creek don’t rise, I will post a new blog for you that will arrive in your mail box on Friday.
Thanks for your patience!
The Cranky Crone
Be Safe and Be Well
Recently published is an incredibly exquisite book written by citizens of the West – Unplugged Voices; 125 Tales of Art and Life from Northern New Mexico, the Four Corners and the West. This book of “verbal narratives” was curated and edited by Sara Frances. This book is the history of “common people” who live in Western United States. We can read and study and talk about the Fremonts. About the Greeleys. About the Zebulon PIkes. But, the people represented in Unplugged Voices are the people of the history of our West. A Colorado governor. New Mexico “low riders.” Writers. Poets … to name a few.
Can you make new friends, even if they are half way around the world, and who speak another language? We’ll see.
On September 9 of 2020, I published my first BLOG article, so I think it is time to review the results of two-and-a-half years of articles. I hope you will be part of that review. I’m pleased to see that I have any readers, at all. I remember when I began writing, one of my artist mentors told me that, even if I never have any non-family readers, I would have a memoir for my children and grandchildren. So, I started writing and kept writing. And, I’ve always chosen each week’s topic, with a few exceptions. This BLOG, for example. Daughter #3 suggested that I ask my readers if I’m hitting the mark. The mark being that it is my hope that the readers feel like they are sitting around a table, having a drink of their preference, and just talking. I’m thinking that I write like I talk – so this is me, talking.
It’s income tax time. The Ides of March became the Ides of April many, many years ago. This year, the deadline has been pushed to Tuesday, April 18. I’ve tried to find out why April 18, to no avail. Although April 15 is a Saturday, that can’t be the reason. The following Monday is April 17; so, it can’t be the fact that April 15 is Saturday. Anyway, that gives tax payers three more days to get their returns in to the Feds.
I set my last Saturday (April 2) to put all of the information together for my accountant to work with. Terri is really good. I’ve worked with her for three years, now. I really thought that one day would do to pull the necessary records together.
During this past year (2022), I’ve collected everything that I thought I would need in one place. Years before, it seems that all of those documents were scattered through the myriads of paperwork that I have in my house. Sister Clara kept telling me to keep it all in one place. A file folder. An accordion file. Something – some place – that I could go to on the appointed day and find everything. But, as she always says, I never listened to her. So, income tax day was spent searching for documents to use for my information for Terri; income tax day usually ended up being income tax week. This year of 2022 was to be different. Saturday would be the day to get the report ready.
Saturday begins with my usual activities. Rise. Eat. Feed the dogs – Katie is with us; then, they go outside and back in. Dress. Now, attack the paperwork. There was; about two inches of records to sort and use to document income and expenditures during this last year. Two types of income: Social Security and state pension. That’s easy.
Now, expenditures. Charities. Check. Health insurance. Check. I forgot to complete the organizing form for Terri. So, the search for expenditure documentation gets set aside until the form is complete. The form reminds me of several items that need to be included. The dogs want to go out, again. And, as long as I’m up, I go to the basement to take care of laundry. And, the phone rings. It’s Sister Clara, and we take time to chat. I tell her about my day’s plan. I resume my work. I talk with her several times¸ after that. The last time, she says, “Aren’t you supposed to be preparing you tax information?” I can’t argue with her, so I go back to work.
I’m looking for documents that I need to show house and car taxes. I find them, but it takes some time. And, the dogs want to go out again. And, be fed. Again. And, there’s more laundry to take care of. I really need to eat something for supper.
By nine o’clock¸ I’m tired and work has slowed to the point that I’m going to start making mistakes. It’s a good idea to stop and finish, tomorrow. Still, I stay up until midnight – my usual bedtime.
Sunday starts in much the same way Saturday started. Then, it’s back to paperwork. I realize I have not asked my pharmacy for a print out of all of my purchases for the year; but, it’s Sunday, and I can’t do that until tomorrow. I need that document to count the number of times I had to drive to the pharmacy in the year – medical mileage. I remember that I need a similar document from one of my medical providers. I’ll have to call both places early on Monday morning. That means that this information won’t be completed until sometime Monday.
As it turns out, it takes until Tuesday to get all of the information together and documented properly. Daughter #1 will take me to Terri’s to deliver the prepared materials. Terri will work her magic and send the income tax return off to the IRS electronically. It will reach there by April 18, I’m sure.
For next year, I’ve made some notes about those things that I’ve had to spend time searching for this year. Maybe, it will be easier. Maybe, not.
Be Safe and Be Well.
The Cranky Crone
Thoughtful comments are appreciated.
I have a refrigerator magnet that says: “Friendship is when people know all about you but like you anyway.” I think I’m never reticent about sharing information about myself, my family, my dogs – anything. I’m not very good at keeping things to myself. So, of course, people will know all about me, but I’m never sure if they like me, anyway.
If you will forgive my bragging, I’m going to do it. Stories and bragging about my family, that is. You’ve heard about my family, before, of course. Daughters #1 and 3, Son-in-Law, two Grands, a mother, and a sister. We were five sisters, three older than I and Sister Clara, younger – all of us Colorado Natives.
One of the definitions of epiphany is an unusually sudden manifestation or perception of the essential nature or meaning of something. It is an intuitive grasp of reality through something (such as an event) usually simple and striking; or, an illuminating discovery, realization, or disclosure.
I had one of those about a month and a half ago, about midnight. My CPA says it was February 3, 2023 (more on that later). Sitting at my computer which was on the card table that I’ve been using as a work desk for months (in my TV room), I was working on my BLOG for the next Wednesday. I actually think I felt a feeling wash over the area, including me. “This is what you need to be doing,” it seemed to say. “You want to write. And, write. And, write. So, write!”