Well, what a week I've had. A week ago tonight, my wife rushed me to the emergency room because I was having trouble breathing. It had started two nights earlier with what I thought was a bad head cold. The next night, my breathing was labored and shallow, which neither Deb or I thought was right(duh!). So she took me in, and they diagnosed me with pneumonia, and was admitted for six days.
The only time I had ever been admitted to the hospital before was to have my tonsils out at age five. Sure, I had been to the ER before for various minor things, and over the years, visited parents, friends and realitives during their infimaries. But to have it be me this time was a bit strange. I've always been the strong one, the one who could work six days a week, go to church on the seventh, help Deb take care of her Mom, and help keep the house running, and deal with the varoius slings and arrows that life throws at you. Guess even us rocks have to crumble a bit from time to time.
When I was first admitted, I was connected to a nice selection of antibiotics on an IV. After 24 hours, it was determined that they were not working, which I could've told them, cause I still felt like shit. So they switched meds, but just to cover their butts, ran a battery of other tests on me. My favorite one had to be the turbuculosis test. Very simple, really. They just prick you with a small needle,and wait 48 hours. If a big red ring appears where they stuck you, you have TB. If not, you don't. I don't. But in that 48 hours, I was basically quarrentined. The door to my room was kept closed, and anyone that came in had to wear a protective gown and surgical mask. Doctors, nurses and vistors alike. There are some nurses I had whom I'm not sure if I could identify again. Do not underestimate the sheer weirdness of everyone around you having to be protected in such a way. I even had the nerve to be surprised by the lonlieness that it generated. Deb was wonderful, she was there all the time. But when it got late, I encouraged her to go home, and sleep and take care of herself. It was after she left, during the isolation that got weird. No nurses would come in for hours, unless I called. I couldn't hear any noise from outside the room, as the door was closed. Sure, I had books, TV and my ipod for company, but being that alone was not something I was used to. I came from a big family, joined the Navy, got married. I had never lived alone, or even really ever spent many nights alone. Definately odd.After the 48 hours, the quarrentine was lifted, and the masks and gowns came off. I spent another three days feeling better,but waiting for the prescribed antibiotics to finish being administered. You know what happens when you have an IV pouring into you for six days nonstop? You pee alot. Of course, this very act becomes a well choreographed manuver when you have to take the f***ing IV pole to the john with you. At first, I would unplug it from the wall (relax, it had a back up battery), and move it. Then after a couple days, I figured out that I could keep it plugged in as long as I moved it just so, and the length of the hose coming from my arm afforded me the distance I needed to get as close to johnny as I could to conduct my business. When was the last time you put so much thought, planning and execution into taking a whizz?
So now I'm home. Off for the rest of the week. Under doctor's orders to not do any strenous activity. I get to lay around all day. Sounds nice, but starting to go a little bonkers. And I gotta quit smoking. Oh, didn't I tell you? Smoker for 30 years. Most likely the reason for my impromptu vacation. I'm on a nicotine patch, but man oh man, this is rough. I know, I know. I'm better off, will be much healthier, yada, yada, yada. But that's a whole other blog.
One of my good friends is in nursing school. Just gotta say that I had about 8 or 9 different nurses and nurses assistants while I was there, and with the exception of 1 or 2, they were top flight professionals. They all were very compassionate, humorous, friendly,and just great to be cared for by. My friend in school, and you know who you are, this is the standard to which you must aspire. The nurse is the link to the patient from the weird medical world that no one understands, and they made the transition effortless. Always reassuring, never aloof. Nurses rock.
So, wish me luck. With the pnuemonia recovery, the smoking cessation (PLEASE!!), the writing long winded blogs at two in the morning. But probably,most of all, with trying to slow down a little. I will spare you the cliches about stopping to smell the roses, but it's neccessary. Yeah, there's thorns, but there's also a beautiful flower to look at. And the fragrance. Just try to describe the fragrance.
NOTE: This was originally written in October of 2008, and published on my Myspace page.
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