P.E.M. (not so bad)
Today was odd. Really, it was. But why cut to the chase when I can offer you a blow by blow detailed account regarding mundane actions that no one possibly cares about?
Yes, indeed. There's that. But let's see how this plays out. We'll start out low and slow, going back to a time before, right now.
Ummm. The Commode Olympic event destroyed me for a short while. However, I'd like to reemphasize the word "short" .. Because, the duration was somehow manageable.
How did that happen? I'm not quite sure, but my advocate involved herself in the suffering process early on. Texting me. Redirecting my focus for a short interval (and I suspect my dizzy misspelled incoherent responses made her day). After that, and despite the typical strained breathing kicking in at about the 45-minute mark, I managed to fall asleep while listening to odd strains of agreeable wordless music. YAY!
Sometimes I won't allow myself to slip out of consciousness amidst breathing struggles (fearing I won't awaken - unfounded paranoia). This time, I did. And I awoke 20 minutes later to the sound of a doctor's voice. And no, it wasn't all a dream. It was Dr. Anthony. And more importantly, I felt slightly recovered.
Okay then, seeing my all-new primary physician standing at the foot of my bed was surreal. It had been 47 days since I saw Dr. Woo Woo for those fast and furious three minutes. As you may have guessed, the three minutes weren't well spent. But this time there was all kinds of doctoring action taking place.
More Bloodwork.
And a Future G.I.
And that was that. I mean, he seemed to believe me, the things I was saying (and for what it's worth, my roommate told me he was impressed with my monologue), but I've been fooled before (recently.. by the psychiatric staff). Also, I tend NOT to read men as well as women.. not a lot of experience growing up. So really, there's no telling.
Speaking of Men
So, it's around noon before I get deposited outdoors, underneath skies overcast from end to end. Diane is out there already. And rather than her approaching me, we shout back and forth across the courtyard.
She was pleased that they were able to draw her blood through the midline. It took three nurses to fill seven vials, but Diane was satisfied. There were concerns leading into this.. which we'd discussed.
And soon thereafter, the rest of the smoking people arrived. And with them, a new face appeared. And for some reason, it was clear that I needed to talk to him.
So I motioned towards the guy and he nodded, before waltzing on over. A conversation took place. And that conversation lasted over five hours!
For the first couple of hours we went back and forth about this, that, and everything. Easy words. Easy flow. He'd been in a bad situation. Someone had purposely run him over with their truck, so he had broken ribs, a punctured lung, leg contusions, and a whole hell of a lot of stitches down his left side.
Anyway, I felt I had an immediate connection with the guy, this tall skinny tattooed 30 year old. He just seemed instantly familiar. And as it turns out, he should have been. He used to run with my former stepdaughter, the one who died last summer. And apparently, they'd been good friends going all the way back to middle school (his name, at last being familiar).
Based upon old intelligence and simple association, I kind of knew this guy had been into different sorts of things. Likely, bad things. Despite that, he had very good energy, and put off a strong positive vibe. Plus, he was grateful, and seemingly thrilled to be alive after his harrowing experience.
He'll be here (housed in the short term rehabilitation wing) for another week or two, and I'm hoping I can do for him what I was unable to do for my former step-daughter. In some ways it's painful relating to him, knowing what I know (and he, knowing much the same), but in other ways there's an inherent hopefulness that exists.
Other Avenues Through the Same Village (squared)
It turns out the social worker knew also the person in question (same high school), which has now led to our somehow settling into a separately weird comfortable knowing. It's as though the three of us are now waiting out the next coincidental happenstance, or for a stray someone else to join the fray.
Three Days Pass
And then yesterday (in the courtyard) there so happened an impromptu gathering of significant interior others (mostly staff), leading into an unstoppably mad self-propelled riff session fully improvised and I'm hitting hard and fast and there's no resistance, no lag, just encouragement, nodding, and full-on acknowledgement. In a sense, who I really am is coming out all over the place unintentionally. All of the pent up year's (perhaps decades worth) of holding in and holding back is now coming to light.
Again, it's this unrelenting joy. An emotional overwhelming indescribable everything.
Yet, I have nothing. I am nothing. And I am nowhere.
Oversight
They bungled something else. Someone did. Friday's ride to the CT scan never showed. I waited and wondered. I made calls. Digits pushed on my phone. Select "6" Select "1" Select "0" - "Hello, India" - Humans not responding in a manner that's useful. "Hello, supervisor in India" - A grand confusion. Comprehension abysmal. Staff scarce. Staff hiding. Dodging questions. Darting eyes. Furtive movements. CT Scan denied.
I'll probably never know what really happened. How this came undone. But now each succeeding appointment in the series will have to be pushed back.. as one is dependent upon the next.
And I am mostly unfazed. My advocate and I from now on will be more intimately involved in my scheduled transports. She so insists. And I shall allow.
Let's get this done. Let's improve me. Let's improve all of us. Because really, that IS the point of all of this… whatever "this" is.
Now is Now
I've slept three hours. Perhaps I'm wound. Maybe you are, too.
What keeps us not sleeping? Surely the list is long. I skipped my tart cherry powder again, so that may be it. An occasional side effect is intestinal bloating.. which in recent days and based upon recent (hospitalized) results, I am doing my best to avoid. But, I DO have the anti-gas formula. Yes, darn it. Me forgetting. Often. So often the simple things.
Here's hoping everyone finds peace in their day,
Howard
Today was odd. Really, it was. But why cut to the chase when I can offer you a blow by blow detailed account regarding mundane actions that no one possibly cares about?
Yes, indeed. There's that. But let's see how this plays out. We'll start out low and slow, going back to a time before, right now.
Ummm. The Commode Olympic event destroyed me for a short while. However, I'd like to reemphasize the word "short" .. Because, the duration was somehow manageable.
How did that happen? I'm not quite sure, but my advocate involved herself in the suffering process early on. Texting me. Redirecting my focus for a short interval (and I suspect my dizzy misspelled incoherent responses made her day). After that, and despite the typical strained breathing kicking in at about the 45-minute mark, I managed to fall asleep while listening to odd strains of agreeable wordless music. YAY!
Sometimes I won't allow myself to slip out of consciousness amidst breathing struggles (fearing I won't awaken - unfounded paranoia). This time, I did. And I awoke 20 minutes later to the sound of a doctor's voice. And no, it wasn't all a dream. It was Dr. Anthony. And more importantly, I felt slightly recovered.
Okay then, seeing my all-new primary physician standing at the foot of my bed was surreal. It had been 47 days since I saw Dr. Woo Woo for those fast and furious three minutes. As you may have guessed, the three minutes weren't well spent. But this time there was all kinds of doctoring action taking place.
More Bloodwork.
And a Future G.I.
And that was that. I mean, he seemed to believe me, the things I was saying (and for what it's worth, my roommate told me he was impressed with my monologue), but I've been fooled before (recently.. by the psychiatric staff). Also, I tend NOT to read men as well as women.. not a lot of experience growing up. So really, there's no telling.
Speaking of Men
So, it's around noon before I get deposited outdoors, underneath skies overcast from end to end. Diane is out there already. And rather than her approaching me, we shout back and forth across the courtyard.
She was pleased that they were able to draw her blood through the midline. It took three nurses to fill seven vials, but Diane was satisfied. There were concerns leading into this.. which we'd discussed.
And soon thereafter, the rest of the smoking people arrived. And with them, a new face appeared. And for some reason, it was clear that I needed to talk to him.
So I motioned towards the guy and he nodded, before waltzing on over. A conversation took place. And that conversation lasted over five hours!
For the first couple of hours we went back and forth about this, that, and everything. Easy words. Easy flow. He'd been in a bad situation. Someone had purposely run him over with their truck, so he had broken ribs, a punctured lung, leg contusions, and a whole hell of a lot of stitches down his left side.
Anyway, I felt I had an immediate connection with the guy, this tall skinny tattooed 30 year old. He just seemed instantly familiar. And as it turns out, he should have been. He used to run with my former stepdaughter, the one who died last summer. And apparently, they'd been good friends going all the way back to middle school (his name, at last being familiar).
Based upon old intelligence and simple association, I kind of knew this guy had been into different sorts of things. Likely, bad things. Despite that, he had very good energy, and put off a strong positive vibe. Plus, he was grateful, and seemingly thrilled to be alive after his harrowing experience.
He'll be here (housed in the short term rehabilitation wing) for another week or two, and I'm hoping I can do for him what I was unable to do for my former step-daughter. In some ways it's painful relating to him, knowing what I know (and he, knowing much the same), but in other ways there's an inherent hopefulness that exists.
Other Avenues Through the Same Village (squared)
It turns out the social worker knew also the person in question (same high school), which has now led to our somehow settling into a separately weird comfortable knowing. It's as though the three of us are now waiting out the next coincidental happenstance, or for a stray someone else to join the fray.
Three Days Pass
And then yesterday (in the courtyard) there so happened an impromptu gathering of significant interior others (mostly staff), leading into an unstoppably mad self-propelled riff session fully improvised and I'm hitting hard and fast and there's no resistance, no lag, just encouragement, nodding, and full-on acknowledgement. In a sense, who I really am is coming out all over the place unintentionally. All of the pent up year's (perhaps decades worth) of holding in and holding back is now coming to light.
Again, it's this unrelenting joy. An emotional overwhelming indescribable everything.
Yet, I have nothing. I am nothing. And I am nowhere.
Oversight
They bungled something else. Someone did. Friday's ride to the CT scan never showed. I waited and wondered. I made calls. Digits pushed on my phone. Select "6" Select "1" Select "0" - "Hello, India" - Humans not responding in a manner that's useful. "Hello, supervisor in India" - A grand confusion. Comprehension abysmal. Staff scarce. Staff hiding. Dodging questions. Darting eyes. Furtive movements. CT Scan denied.
I'll probably never know what really happened. How this came undone. But now each succeeding appointment in the series will have to be pushed back.. as one is dependent upon the next.
And I am mostly unfazed. My advocate and I from now on will be more intimately involved in my scheduled transports. She so insists. And I shall allow.
Let's get this done. Let's improve me. Let's improve all of us. Because really, that IS the point of all of this… whatever "this" is.
Now is Now
I've slept three hours. Perhaps I'm wound. Maybe you are, too.
What keeps us not sleeping? Surely the list is long. I skipped my tart cherry powder again, so that may be it. An occasional side effect is intestinal bloating.. which in recent days and based upon recent (hospitalized) results, I am doing my best to avoid. But, I DO have the anti-gas formula. Yes, darn it. Me forgetting. Often. So often the simple things.
Here's hoping everyone finds peace in their day,
Howard
