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I promised a story and here it is.

I like holidays. I like religious, Hallmark, patriotic, and even scary holidays. Count me in on any holiday you give, get, eat, and celebrate. With that said, I've had some pretty bad holidays in the last five years. I've found my life paralleling the game show "Family Feud". Imagine the question; Top four answers on the board;

"Name the worst place to spend a holiday" I would guess the top answer would be....jail! The second answer might be debatable as I can think of two answers. Option 1: Spend the holiday with family. Option 2: Spend the holiday alone in the hospital.

I have had the misfortune of spending a holiday alone in the hospital. A few years ago I was having complications from a surgery and ended up staying in the hospital over Christmas. It wasn't for me, but I'm not sure my family forgave me or will ever forgive me for ruining Christmas. At least I wasn't in jail.

This past Saturday I woke up and didn't realize it but things were not right. One thing was certain, tomorrow was Easter. I took a shower, but not only because it was Easter or Saturday. I just thought I needed one. It was when I was drying off that things started to happen. I developed the chills and began shaking. I didn't think much of it until Elaine saw me shaking. She did the Elaine thing and offered me a blanket. I didn't want a blanket. We needed to get to town to get organized for the holiday. The shaking didn't stop and I reluctantly agreed to sit for half an hour to shake off the shakes. It worked, sort of. I stopped shaking but I slept for the next four hours. When I woke, four hours had elapsed. I couldn't complete a sentence. Elaine knew something seriously was wrong. By now, I was incoherent. At least that is what Elaine says. She has said that before, but this time she was not mistaken.

I'm not sure how the decision was made, I don't think I participated in the decision, but I should think Elaine decided I was going to the hospital. I'm not sure how she got me into the car, but God Bless her, she did. To this minute, I have no memory of the ride to the hospital. Elaine tells me I was screaming "Slow down, there is a light here". She calmed me by telling me, "The light is green."

For the next four hours, Elaine might as well tell the story, I have little knowledge or memories of what happened.

Elaine tells me, that once at the hospital, she put me in a wheelchair and pushed me inside. Again Elaine's words, I was taken to an examination room where my vitals were checked. My temperature was OVER 104F. I remember vaguely being asked questions. The questions were easy, but I didn't have the answers. (No, it has nothing to do with my public school education.) I was lapsing in and out of consciousness, similar to the leader of the Democratic party. (Sorry, I just can't quit) At some point, I was transferred to a room upstairs. I don't know if I said goodbye to Elaine, I have no memory.

In the room upstairs, I remember a woman with blonde hair asking me for my name and birthdate. I remember trying to tell her I couldn't say the words. Luckily that info was on the band on my wrist. I was starting to come around. The woman finally told me something I was able to understand. "You have sepsis." I've never worked in the medical industry but I know sepsis is bad and I don't want it.

I spent the night before Easter in a hospital room being poked and monitored, monitored and poked.

I could end the story there, but there is so much more.

I don't have many memories of the FIRST night I spent in the hospital, which I will call Easter Eve. I do remember being tethered to a wall with several wires monitoring my vitals and my movements in the bed. Should I try to get out of bed a loud alarm would go off screaming, "Don't get out of bed, the care team has been notified."

Sleeping was out of the question. The cuff on my mammoth right biceps would come to life every two hours. If I could have slept the cuff would have woke me up. I had an assortment of annoying wires attached to my chest. Most annoying of all was a wire taped to the index finger on my left hand.

Early Easter morning, THE doctor entered my room.

Dr.: Hello, I'm Dr. %^&*(), you know, I think we've worked together before.

Me: Yes, I recognize you also.

The doctor explained that what I had was treatable, but left untreated it would be lethal. It wasn't long before the conversation switched to Your Daily Fiber, yaks llamas, alpacas, and knitting. This conversation helped me write this story. After all, this is a fiber-themed blog.

Easter morning I realized I had not eaten since Easter Eve Eve. I realized, this because a nurse asked if I had ordered breakfast. She also asked for my name and birthdate. I wanted to tell her Monner, but thought the better of it. Throughout the day, the medical staff informed me I was responding well They had told me I would be transferred to a room without the wires. I had oaxed the staff into turning off the bed alarm to let me stand and walk to the end of my wires.

I spent Easter standing in front of the television. Elaine spent Easter sitting in a chair, knitting, watching me stand. Occasionally, the medical staff would send in a new person to ask like, "Do you use oxygen at home?" The obvious answer is "Doesn't everyone?" Elaine would give me that Elaine mom look and I would be forced to answer without sarcasm. I told Elaine she could go home, but she insisted on watching me stand. I love her for that, but her being there ruined some of my sarcastic answers.

I treated myself to a gourmet meal for Easter dinner. Pasta Fresca! Pasta and vegetables in a balsamic reduction with an option for chicken or shrimp. When you have spent the day standing in front of the television, looking forward to a special meal is the day's highlight. Boy, was that meal "special."

I am not a chef. I do however cook for Elaine. That gives me the right to critique the food I was or was not going to eat. I'm sure the pasta had been cooking in a Crockpot for three days before serving. It melted on my fork. The shrimp was so mushy I gagged and spit it back on the plate. I've had some uninspired Easter dinners, but come on. It was best to forget it was a holiday.

I could end my story here but I haven't even transferred rooms yet. Easter has come and gone. The pasta fresca is a memory. I am still tethered to the monitors but the nurses have shown me how to unplug the monitor to go for a walk. Tonight's dinner was beef stir-fry and iced tea. My lovely daughter stopped by at dinnertime to cheer me up. I talked her into bringing me a burger from a nearby fast food restaurant and threw the stir fry in the trash. The burger wasn't the best, but at least, it didn't come out of a can.

Before I end my story I should mention I was x-rayed, heart echoed, drugged, and finally transferred to a new room. The room transfer happened at 11: PM when a nurse entered my room and told me I was moving. Someone in Emergency needed my room.

I should stop the story here, but I just don't think I've finished it. I'm in my new room. I have no wires tethering me to the wall or bed. For forty-five minutes each day, I receive intravenous antibiotics, for the remaining twenty-three hours and fifteen minutes I watch television, look at the room service menu,

talk to Elaine and the nurses, read, and enjoy the view from my new window. I cannot go home until the medical staff identifies my infection.

With all that said, I am still receiving blood tests, new meds, and new tests. One new med was called FLOMAX. As the name implies it increases your flow. Shortly after receiving a dose of FLOMAX, I was told they were taking me to the basement for a bone scan on a machine called the Nuclear Medicine Gamma Gamma. On the trip to the basement, the FLOMAX kicked in. No problem, the NMGG has a restroom.

The NMGG is a machine in which the patient is placed on a small table/cot. I was placed on the cot. I was told the first test would take about five minutes. No problem. I am told the second test will take fifteen minutes. Seven minutes into the test the FLOMAX kicks in. I try to ignore the discomfort. Two minutes go by. The medical tech says, "Just about five minutes more." The "fun" that I am having is gone. I distract myself by looking around the room. I noticed a timer on the NMGG. Four minutes, twenty-seven seconds. I've got to hang on. Three minutes, seventeen seconds. I'm having feelings of doubt. I completed the test without disaster, minus one small thing. When the test was over the tech was on the phone. I didn't care. I jumped off the cot and ran for the restroom. I made it. The tech said, "I could see your bladder was filling."

As it turns out, the medical staff was able to keep the infection out of my heart and bones. My journey is not over. I must receive forty-five minutes of intravenous antibiotics for the next two to possibly six weeks. I did get to come home, but I return to the hospital every day.

I had plenty of opportunities to use (construction language) in this story. With it being Easter I chose not to. I hope you appreciate that.

I feel this is the end of the story. I hope it explains that week's story.

God Bless, Love ya, right now I don't care if you buy yarn.

Our crazy lives!



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