Kage Baker firmly believed that if something happened once, odds were high it would happen again. And the weirder the occurrence, the more likely it would be to repeat. Never mind waiting for “third time is enemy action” for Kage: any out-of-the way happening was sure as hell somebody’s fault. And she wanted them to be punished.
If I could figure out who was responsible for the spectacular collapse of my own health, I would commit several mortal crimes, I fear. Probably involving the steel pins the miscreant keeps jabbing into portions of my victim doll’s anatomy.
I once more ended up in the hospital last Monday, the 26th. Taking an ordinary walk to the bathroom, I realized I could not catch my breath: my throat was closing. Michael called 911, Kimberly quickly hooked up my nebulizer right there on the sink, and I was balefully puffing Albuteral through a throat the width of a cocktail straw when the lovely EMTs arrived. Despite my insistence that I was fine, thank you, fine, they overpowered me and bore me off to Glendale Memorial.
It turned out to be a good thing they did so. I had 2 more fits of not-breathing-for-shit’s-sake that evening, and ended up in the ICU on antibiotics, steroids, oxygen and stronger vasodilators. I had X-rays, CAT scans, and far too many ice-cold stethoscopes applied to my chest. And behold! I had a UTI (with no symptoms, but annoying) and PNEUMONIA!
That classic bed rest disease, that so much worse than flu, that notorious killer of harmless old women … luckily, I am NOT a harmless old woman. It took me a week and I am still on antibiotics, but I have cast off the pneumonia and am on the mend. And I am home. Again. Believe me, Dear Readers, the intense joy of homecoming never palls.
The ambulance was 4 hours late – lots of voting related DUI’s, apparently. So I came home at night again, watching the stars through the leafless trees on my street. I was able to actually walk up the 3 steps from the lawn to the front porch – I’m so proud of myself!
And then I collapsed in my wonderful recliner chair, and watched the totally insane election returns with Michael until the two of us couldn’t keep our eyes open any more.
They were still going on this morning, just as crazy. Trump was waxing ever more ridiculous and insane, while Biden was creeping closer and closer to a victory with many tiny successes in Democrat urban strongholds. I can’t tell if I am watching the death of the republic, or the prelude to Civil War redux.
My home health nurse showed up on time for my next dose of antibiotic. I am currently sporting a semi-permanent IV port in my right wrist for the pump-operated antibiotic, and I am wearing a white lace finger less mitt to protect it. Very Victorian. Rather elegant.
And so, here I am. Again. I have no intention of repeating this particular adventure – breaking out of hospital in the dark is just too stressful. I shall just have to heal here at home, which is where I want to be anyway.
A brief bit of election watching tonight, and then a peaceful night’s rest in my own home. Some insane politicians, some confused Congress critters, the question of how we get the old madman out of the White House if he doesn’t want to go. Late night amusements, indeed.
Life still has its joys to offer, Dear Readers. You just have to be ready to grab them.
Geez. 2020, eh? I like the meme I saw the other day: “If 2020 was a bath bomb, it would be a toaster.” About sums it up.
However, the first person who says “Happy New Year” to me on the first of January is going to get clobbered. Look what happened LAST time! Mind you, 1 January 2021 will mark the first day of Brexit, so I don’t imagine too many people are going to be swanning around Scotland spreading cheer anyway.
Get well soon!
The best thing about this election week so far, a post from you and hearing that you are home again. Keep healing up!
“confused Congress critters”: my new favorite quote ! Keep breathing into that plastic breather/excercisor thingy and keep pneumonia away. Welcome home again and hope you get to stay there 🙂