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It's official. I have gone from 120 kilos to 93 since March. I don't recommend the method, but I'm not complaining. Rather the opposite! On Sunday I decided to get my leg shot with the wonderful cocktail of painkillers my ortho guy mixes up for me. I called him to see if he'd do it on Monday as I had that appointment with the gastro folks at Rambam hospital on Tuesday. He happily agreed and even sent the prescription for the cocktail by fax to my clinic so I could come with it and save time. I left early and managed to miss getting stuck in the construction traffic and got there in good time. Thing was, some brilliant Israeli driver parked his car just close enough over the line of the cripple parking space that I could have gotten the car in, but not have had enough room to get myself out. Not having the phone number of the clinic, but only the doc's, I called him and he came out to sort things. What a sweety. After a short visit, he shot my leg and I did my cripple ballet excercises to get the stuff moving.When I went back to the car, I called my friend Shani who lives very close to the clinic, and invited myself over. She's always begging me to visit. We had a lot of fun together in Rambam where we were in the same room. She already had another friend visiting her so she sent him to lead me to her house. We had a lovely laugh filled visit. Another gal arrived a while later. She had visited Shani evrey day at Rambam, so it was like old time week, until the neighbor from upstairs arrived and started talking. She just rattled on without stopping about what the cripple groups should have done. I went a little ballistic on her and asked if she wanted to stay stuck in shoulda coulda woulda, or hear what's realling going why and why things move so slowly. You can't go back and fix things like that from when they should have been done. In order to get things moving in the right direction, you have to start from now and build a solid base. There was a lot of yelling because she really doesn't listen to what anyone else says. She's so wrapped up in her stuff. It was kind of fun and I did get through to Shani. I left much later than I'd planned and the second friend lead me straight to the spot I needed to find my way to get home. I got home, with a totally pain free leg, confirmed with Dem Der for the trip to to gastro the next day and promptly fell asleep until 0600.I again had the best luck. Just as I was starting to take all my 'just in case they keep me in' stuff out to the car, Golan appeared. He shlepped it all out for me and drove Harley back to his place on the ramp after I got in the car. I met up with Dem Der and a friend of his he'd asked if I could take along to the train station in Haifa,as we go right by it. At some point along the way, Dem Der started in on the pretty much the same cripple stuff I dealt with the night before and I just wasn't in the mood. I asked him to drop the subject, but he just kept going on. I lost it and at a stop light where two cops were hanging out told him to either leave it or get out. Ok, he might be right that all those things should have been done, but they weren't and they won't get done overnight. Just let me have some peace an quiet to drive without getting into it all again. He finally shut up and all was well. We ended up in the worst taffic snarl I have ever seen at the hospital car park, but again got lucky and the attendent sorted a space for me right at the entrance to the building. We found the right place in good time and the doc took me as close to on time as you can get in this country. I liked him immediately. It took him about half a second to realize that I am not your every day garden vegetable Israeli patient who treats docs like gods. My answer to his question about the illnesses I suffer from probably tipped him off. I told him that I'm not really sick, I'm just a bunch of broken parts they don't keep spares for in the wharehouse! I also told him about the medical experiment I did on myself the previous night. I figured out a way to get the good folks at KFC to bring an order out to me, figuring that if it stayed down, the barf from that morning could be considered a fluke. It worked! After more questioning and finding out that I've been on NSAIDs for 10 years, he came to the conclusion that I most likely have a peptic ulcer caused by the NSAIDs and agravated by coumadin. He said to quit taking the NSAID, and come in for another edoscope in two weeks, and upped the Losec dosage. Sounds good to me, so I am now quite calm about the gut crap I've been through. It was good for something. I've gone from 120 kilos to 93. Not bad at all! After the appointment, Dem Der and I went to a MacDonald's on the way to his place to get his laundry to take to the guy who does it for him. After we left off the laundry I dropped him at a bus stop and came home. I barely had time to send two emails ad phone him and Shani that I got safely home before I just fell asleep.
Then, along rolled yesterday. I took all stuff from the Rambam doc to my doc at the clinic and he wrote out the scripts for the non NSAID he recommened and the new dose of Losec. After that I went to the agency I get my cleaning lady through, to pay for last month, and was told that she would be here between 1300 and 1400. I got in after a quick swing through the grocery store to pick up the ingredients for a cheese pie, at 1230. She never showed up. Damn and double triple damn.
Good old Peg wasn't as lucky with the KFC I foolishly let him have and he squitted all over again. This time I decided to clean it up while it was still wet. I got a wad of paper towels and toilet paper and bent down from the wheely to start mopping it up. I was so suprized that I could bend to floor that I almost fell face first into the mess! But I managed a last minute save and got the whole mess all nice and clean.
And that brings us to day. I went to the clinic to weigh myself. Wowsers! I've lost almost 62 lbs! I left the clinic grinning lile a mad woman and headed for the industrial area to get yet another Harley lock. On the way I saw a truck full of cute young men putting up flags(among them purple ones) for tonight's 60 years founding of Qiryat Shmonah celebration. I just had to stop and ask for a purple one. And they gave me one! They even used those plastic handcuff thingies so it wouldn't blow off. They were so sweet.
They were just pulling into the stadium car park when I was on the way home and they all hi fived me and waved Then I went to my favorite kitchen stuff store and got two pretty pots(with pretty purple flowers, duh) with the kind of handles I prefer, and new knife. When I got here, I called Golan to see if he was in the area and asked him to come and take a few pictures of the flag draped Harley. He did and even came in and sorted some water bottles right into the freezer so I'll have a supply at hand for the week. Oh, yes indeed. It sure can be fun being me, and screw anyone who has a problem with it!
Right! It only took an hour and a half, but I can once again see the bottom of my sink (what's left of it). Before and after pictures fot your viewing pleasure.You might not be able to see much of a difference because what's left of the counter has so much stuff on it, but, I sure can.
Anyone want to play Find the Differences?
Yes, I really did want to go on that trip to Jerusalem. There were several reasons I wanted to go. The other four of The Five were all going and we usually have fun just being together, and it was the first anniversary of the trip to Jerusalem on our scooters and my burn! I also really wanted to go back to the Israel Museum. I was there years ago and have wanted to go back ever since.
So, I decided to go and block out the kids as much as possible.
We were supposed to leave at 0800 from the Community Center. We were all there on time, but the freaking bus was half an hour late. It takes time to get all the wheelies onto the bus, so we left almost an hour late, and got to the museum an hour later than planned. While we were looking at one of the exhibits, the gals in charge got a call from the restaurant that said that we have to hurry up. That put an end to seeing any more of the museum. I was so furious with the restaurant that I refused to eat there. As it turned out there was no real reason to hurry.
Our next stop was Mini Israel, which is a miniature of pretty much the whole country. I had absolutely no intersest in seeing that, as I've seen most of it in the original. I stayed behind while the others went off look around. I used the little crippled ladies room and had a lunch of an Ice cream cone. I was perfectly happy watching the people who came in. At least there was no time pressure there and I could people watch to my heart's content.
We finally left at around 2000 and got back to the Community Center at 2300 or so. The kids were restless on the way home. They had actually been pretty good up until then. The one who did manage to annoy me was Savta's wife. She is the Jewish equvalent of a born again Christian and is always talking about it and what we are supposed to do and why. She spent hours telling the gals in the seat across the aisle what to do. It drove me feaking wild and she is now known to me as The Missionary, which is the epitome of rude as Judaism does not have missionaries. She started on me at one point, but I managed to escape without insulting her too badly. On the way home she started playing some very loud religious type music on an I Pod or something. I was on the verge of shoving it down her throat when she turned it off. I just wanted a little quiet to rest. If it wasn't her and that music, it was the kids whining "When will we be home?"
So, yes, I should stuck to my guns and noy gone. I spent the day yesterday mostly sleeping.
My sink issue has been somewhat resolved. Resolved enough that I can do the dishes until they come to change the counter and sink. I'll get started on the dishes later.Maybe.
Sometimes I can't help but wonder why I do stupid things. Take today. I actually had a fairly good night's sleep and woke up at a reasonable hour, got through my morning routine and went out to get fags and something to cook for today and tomorrow. I wasn't sure what I wanted, but when I saw nice big juicy turkey tits in the butcher's shop I decided that my internationally unknown turkey tit salad was just thing. I got the meat, and rolled into the supermarket for celery (I discovered at home that the celery was in fact lettuce-oops) and scallions, then, I picked up the local papers and came home to make that salad. I hate working in a kitchen that has undone dishes and stuff in the sink, so I positioned my kitchen chair just the way I like it and turned on the water. I was less than pleased when it drained out of the pipes onto my feet and the floor. It being Friday, there was nothing to do and I wasn't about to start messing around with the pipes myself, so I ended up making my turkey tit salad with unwashed dishes and my feet in a wading pool. I got the salad all made, and ready to go into the fridge. As I opened the fridge door I remembered that a friend had written this morning that the mammogram she had yesterday was like closing herself in a fridge door. While trying to control my mirth, I promptly closed the fridge door on my face. OUCH.7 hours later my face is still sore.
It's a well known fact that I destest children, especially those of most of the parents in my neighborhood. Yesterday there was a meeting of those of us who are active in the accessibility for gimps group. During the second half of the meeting, after the 'out of towners' left, the locals stayed behind to go over a few more issues. A subsidised trip to Jerusalem has been organized for us, those who participate in the accessibility group. Turns out that two sets of parents want to take their kids along. After much discussion, they were given permission to take the kids. The person in charge of the trip brought it up in oreder to 'warn' the rest of us that there would be kids coming along. Me, being me, said very calmly that if THOSE kids are going I'm not. End of story, except that Lilach said that that was all she needed to not allow the kids to go. She said in no uncertain terms that the trip was arranged for us, and that if having kids along caused even one of us not to go, the kids were out. So, I guess I'm going.
I'm very sorry, but the mere thought of being stuck with those kids for a whole day just makes me sick.
I ended up going to Safad to pick up the money Dem Der owes on his phone bill. It's also a good idea to take the car for a jaunt. I put the phones with car keys at the foot of the bed, along with a pack of fags, my glasses from their spot by the TV, my bag of holding from it's hook, and picked up the phones and bag of holding, and out I went. Getting into the car is a well tuned ritual. I have to pull up to my gimp parking space sign pole so the rear wheel of Harley is almost touching it, pull up the snake lock, open it and run it through a rear wheel. Then I get up, open the car, toss the bag and phones in, and start the car. Then, I get the fags out of the bag and put them in a little pouch on the sun visor. I was not pleased to discover that the fags were nowhere to be found and figured that I'd just left on the bed. There was no one around I could ask to go in and get them, and I really didb't feel like going through the whole get out of the car (the same as getting in except in reverse order), and getting back in again, so I decided to go without. I had told Dem Der that I'd be leaving in half an hour before I did leave. He called to ask where I was and I told him. I also asked him to try and bum a few fags for me for the drive home. He also told me that he was waiting for the bus to take him to the market not far from his house. I told him I'd pick him up there. So far so good. Then he called to say that he hadn't been able to bum any fags, but he'd buy me a pack, what kind did I want? The cheapest, was the answer. By the time he called for 4th time to verify the brand, I'd had it. It's not exactly rocket sience. When some who asks to bum smokes says the cheapest brand, it should be obvious that she means exactly that. I do not like talking on the phone while driving even though all I have to do is hit on it's head(the phone) and listen and talk. It's still enough to feel that you are not paying 100 percent attention to the road. And a major part of that road is under construction, or, destruction. It's hard to tell. So he got a blast and I hung up. What I want to know is; why does it take me so long to learn? Poor Dem Der just wants to get it right, and will drive the strongest amongst us to self commitment to the local funny farm in the process. He just about drove me wild a while back at KFC. I told him exactly what to get, and they guy kept making suggestions and he'd run back to car to ask. I finally just told him again what I wanted and nothing else would do and to quit running back to check. He did the same thing one day when staying here under the alias of Homeless and he was making spaghetti. Do you want this, or that in it? Ok, I do understand that he means well and just wants to please. But there are limits. He's a good friend, and I appreciate his willingness to do things. It's just the obssesive attention to detail is way OTT. I hope I've learned my lesson this time.
I found a great way to fake myself and save on a/c use. I found a screen saver of a snow storm, complete with sound effects. The first time it came up, I was in the kitchen washing dishes. I stopped for a minute to try and figure out if I was finally losing my mind because I heard a snow storm and I new it was over 80 degrees outside. Then I saw the screen saver and knew I had a winner. I've gotten through two whole nights without the a/c.
It's been a busy few weeks, to put it mildly. Trips to and from the clinic, and scattered meetings with the head honchos of the major gimp group in the country. Yes, indeed, the very one that I've refused to join ever since they hooked up with the Union. They've been up here a few times to talk with us, and we found out that some things we suspected were indeed true. Oh, well. It really doesn't matter at this stage as long as we learn from it. During one of the meetings, I threw an idea to the chairman, and when he came back two weeks later, he said that he is trying to put it together. It's not exactly a brand new idea, but more of a clarification of an older one. He wants credit for it? Fine. I know where it came from and so do the other four.
We've been having more frequent meetings of The Five, which is very good. Yesterday we all met at Hezi's house in the morning. Most evenings we are either at Moshe's or Alberto's. I enjoy the evening meeetings more as they are more social. The meeting at Hezi's was more formal and Moshe and Savta got into it so that no one else could get a word in edge wise. That is most annoying, and has to stop. One thing we all do agree on is that we have to get moving on a few things locally and stop waiting for our nominal hand holders to do anything. We have to do it ourselves because no one else will.
I finally got an appointment at the gastro clinic at Rambam Hospital in Haifa for Aug 11. Maybe they'll figure out what is wrong with me (aside from the usual sanity issues!)
I am now going to pay for my own stupidity. I woke up at 0700 to go to the loo and went back to sleep. The phone woke me up just after 1000, and Peg had squitted all over the living room floor. I really could have let him out, then, gone back sleep. Now I get to wash the whole mess up all by myself.
I'll try to be as delicate as I can. While in hospital in Tiberius, the docs decided that I am constipated because I don't 'go' every day. My definition of constipated is not being able to go when you feel you have to. I remember clearly, my Uncle Doctor Kiddy Quack, aka, Uncle Maury, or The Yankee Clipper (he did circumscisions) telling my mother not to worry if us kids don't go every day, that what went in, will come out, and that that is one nuerotic obsession we don't need.
Right. So, while I've never gon every day, I can not remember a time when I had to go, but couldn't. Since March, things have been well and truly messed up in that department. Every single thing I ate came right back up, so nothing was getting through to make me go. Then I had the great shite bomb squits. Until yesterday, I was pretty much back to normal. I woke up feeling like I had to go. My morning coffee intensified that feeling, so I parked myself in the loo and waited. Nothing. Not a damn thing. I was up and down all day, had several coffees in the hope that they'd get things moving in the right direction. Nothing. I ended up staying in all day, just in case.
Things started off the same way today. While I was sitting there, it finally struck me that I was suffering from pschosomatic constipation, thanks to the docs in Tiberius. They put the idea in my head and my guts adopted it! So, I thought to myself, let's see if I can fake out my body. I got up and mixed up a glass of psyllium(Metamucil) and drank it right down and chased it with more water. It worked! I was out of the loo and off the bog in no time. I told my doc at the clinic about it and he had a good laugh over it with me.
I am quite pleased with myself
It looks like I've finally learned my lesson. Tomorrow I go back to the hospital in Tiberius for yet another endoscopy. After finding myself admitted to the hospital with pretty much only the clothes on my back, the last time, if they decide to admit me I'll be ready for them. The car has a full tank, and just for good measure I had it washed. I have my meds, a whole carton of cigarettes, baby butt wipes, water, clean jammies, cell phone charger and stuff to read. As I am ready for them, it remains to be seen if they are ready for me. The way I figure it, if they want to hack and wack, I'll be staying, if they don't.......I get to come home. I vote for the latter, but am ready for the former!
While out collecting the last few odds and sods that I need, I swung into the clinic to find out how much I weigh now. They always want to know at hospitals. The good news is that I'm down another 5 kilos. Only 15 to go to get down to 'normal'. I'm not sure I want to be normal, even if it is healthier. I hate normal and average. I just might try to hold things one kilo above normal, just for my peace of mind!
If it's not one thing, it's another. I went to the hospital in Tiberius for what should have been a routine endoscope. They couldn't do it because there was too much food left in my stomach to see anything. They sent me home with strict instructions for preparing for another one attempt on Sunday. I did everything they said, and more. This time they could see a little better even though there was still food in there. They decided that as there were signs of inflamation, edema and maybe something else (they took a biopsy) it was decided to send me upstairs to the surgical floor. Just what I didn't need. I kind of wasn't exactly ready for that. They gave me stuff that they thought might help get the stuff moving out of my stomach, and on Wednesday, after almost 4 days of fasting, sent me for a flouroscope. Still not empty. On Thursday they sent me home with strict instructions for yet another endoscope on July 3. This time I'm ready for them. I have a bag all ready just in case, with cell phone charger, fags, jammies, and a few other essentials. Being ready for them, they probably won't want to keep me.
The hospital in Tiberius is so much better than the one Safad that it's sacrelige to mention them in the same sentence. The staff is wonderful. The only bad part was no charger for the phone. Then I found out that one of the women in my room actually had one that fit my phone! I was back in business! As to fags, I bummed as many as I could and managed to get along that way. I was consoled by the fact that I wasn't the only one stuck without in the only hospital in the country that doesn't sell fags. So, here I am, back at home and running around like a mad woman with all kinds of gimp events to go to. I'm so busy that I didn't get around to looking at my burn until 0230 this morning.
The first picture is of the burn before treatment of any kind.
This is the burn after three months of treatment.
And this is the burn today. Almost all better.
Now all I have to do is put Eucerin on it several times a day. And the only things left to take care of are the hematological and gastro issues. I'm 99% convinced that Safad did my stomach in when they stuck that nose hose in to empty my stomach the last time I was there. Time and the hospital in Timerius will tell.
Holy Christmas trees in July! I have to get ready to go to another gimp even.
I was a very good girl and followed the pre test instructions for the gastroscope and started what should have been a 12 hour fast 20 hours ahead of time. We even got there a little early. So, the test should have been just fine, right? WRONG. They got me up on a bed and all arranged the way they wanted me, asked why this test now. I showed the doc the CT results and she gave me a strange look. Then she gave me a go to sleep shot, then woke me up to tell me that she couldn't do the test because there was too much food in my stomach, and we'd have to try it again. Ok. This time I get to fast for almost 48 hours. Just broth and water. I started things yesterday with some apple sauce, and plan to make some cabbage soup later today.
I now have the paperwork for the next attempt on Sunday. The only bad thing about that is that I will have to miss the big demonstration. The big mall in town where my clinic and bank are is rebuilding only heaven knows what and the main entrance is blocked to everyone. Not that we could ever be sure to get in that way. Anyway, they built a wooden ramp for us to use and everything was just fine. Some bright bulb at city hall decided that the ramp was dangerous and gave the mall two options. Remove the ramp or build a safe one. They removed the ramp and it's been over a week since we've been able to get to the bank (the one I use) and supermarket on the ground floor. We decided that if they don't solve our problem by end of business tomorrow, we will demondtrate and close off access to the mall for everyone. The owner has counter hreatened that he will not allow us in on our scooters. Oops. Our scooters are defined by law as electric wheelies, so if he tries to do that, we'll be able to get a court order to close the mall. It's all too insane. As I'll have to leave for the test at about the same time as the demonstration, I'll just have to miss it.
Yesterday morning there was meeting of the Access Kiryat Shmonah group at the community center to prepare for an even we've been working on for several months. Then, in the evening we had a meeting with the two top people from one of the larger gimp groups.
I must say that it was quite nice, when, after I introduced myself, the spokesman for the group added that I'd been active in all the big demonstrations. That was a very nice ego boost. We had a good meeting and they will be up here again soon for a day long meeting.
I had a private chat with the chairman and threw out a few ideas that might be helpful. We'll see.
This morning three of us decided to go to the police and get a license for Sunday's demonstration. That involved a lot of waiting around in the sun until everyone arrived. The relevant cop is now pressuring the mall owner to get a ramp sorted and if he doesn't by our deadline, we close the entrances to the mall on Sunday. Except that I won't be there. I'll be getting a tube stuck down my throat.
Like I don't know that I've neglected my blog. It's just that I really don't feel much like writing. This has not been a good two or three weeks.Strange things happened. Liat wrote that she and Adee would be over here, but didn't say when. Alberto built a new pergola and had a porch roof thing that is perfect for my ramp. So, how to get it over here? Who has a pick up? After a few minutes of hard thought the answer popped into my head and I rode over to Liat's parents and asked her father if he could bring it for me. I also asked when the girls were coming and almost fainted when he told me that they are here now, but not in town. So, the big question is what happened that they didn't tell me, I had to find out by accident? As they were coming back to town late Thursday, I made a midmorning appearance there. Adee still wants nothing to do with me. It doesn't help at all that everytime she looks my way, the other granny jumps in to distract her. It's so far from subtle that no one can miss it. I did ask Liat if she could find an hour for just the three of us to be together and she agreed, and said that she'd call.I ended up having to keep my foot up because it swelled up on account of the stairs I had to manuever at their house. In the end I only got to see Adee twice. The last time Liat did get her to let me give her a kiss. They had a double birthday party for Adee and another little girl. Of course I wasn't invited.I just don't get it. Ok. So, her parents pay for the tickets for them to come over, and they stay with them. They couldn't let me know they were coming? I had to find out by accident that they were already here?
Then, just for added interest, the CT results were a little strange and the doc at my clinic went ballistic and had the endoscope moved from August to today. It seems that whatever they saw on the CT could be nothing, or very very bad. At least I get the results today. One thing we do know is that I have kidney stones. No biggy at this point. They don't bother me at all.
The only good news is very very good. We finally stumbled on something that works on the burn. It's getting better by the day.
So, dear, three faithful readers,don't worry if I disapear for a while.
I was happily sitting on the edge of my bed yesterday morning when McGyver, (Alberto) yelled from outside for me to get my butt in gear, we have workd to do! Someone had called him to tell him that there was a scooter that needed rescuing. While I was getting dressed, he went to get to get Moshe to join the rescue party.
The scooter in question had broken down on the street behind his house, which is a good 20 minute scoot from here. Moshe loaded his tool box onto his scooter, and off we went. When we arrived, we were faced with the oldest scooter any of us had ever seen. After a quick check we realized that there was no hope that it would ever run again. McGyver called the owner and so informed him. We got his permission to take the batteries and charger, and any other parts we might want. The batteries were not new. Well, they were new in 2007. We removed them and transported them to Mc's house, where he got the charger running. We'll know later today if the batteries are salvagable.
When his kids got home from school we all had a lovely lunch of couscous. It was great fun to be back in business again.
Mc is getting a new van soon and offered me his wheely lift box contraption. We call them Gottliebs after the company that makes and installs them.
He is now trying to get the company to give me a better price to install it. It was given to him, and he is giving it to me. All I have to do is come up with enough money to have it installed. We could probably do it ourselves, but, it really is a better idea to get it done by experts. With any luck, we'll get it done next week. He, Moshe, Golan and I are planning on going together and making a day of it.
That Gottlieb will give me a whole new level of independence. The wheely now lives in the trunk and I simply can not manage it on my own any more. That means that I have to have someone go with me whenever I go to one of my out of town doctors, or any place else. With the Gottlieb, I'll be able to have the wheely come down and go back up from right next to the driver's door! Won't that be loverly?
Now we have the naked dog! Poor Pegasus hasn't had a bath or hair cut for at least two years. I made an appointment for him to get beautified today, and we just got back from the two things he hates most in the world. A car ride and bath/shave. The first thing we did when he came down all hairless was to go get him an ice cream cone at McDonald's, as promised. He scarfed it right down and is now recovering on the living room floor.
Before and after pictures.
They are the same dog! Golan had to help me get him in the car, and again, to get him out. He laughed at poor nakey Peg until I told Peg to just ignore him because he's jealous! At least now there won't be huge fur balls all over the house for a good long time, and he won't get mess stuck in his rear skirts.
I am feeling much better these days, but this little excursion kind of tired me out a little. Not that I had to much of anything except drive and wait, but, I'm still not quitte back to full strenhth. I'm getting there, but, still have a way to go.
I really don't know how it happened, but, for the first time in my adult life I made a stew that was edible. I've never managed to do that before, but, did make a pretty good one on Friday. Just a few chunks of beef, onions,garlic, carrots, potatoes, salt and pepper. It was quite good. Maybe for my next trick, I'll figure out how to cook rice! That will have to wait for a few days. I'm not up to the ultimate culinary challege quite yet.
I don't know what's wrong with my doctor. He almost killed me again. If I were the paranoid type, I'd think it was on purpose.
I'd been feeling really bad since March 2. The bout of food poisoning that started then was just a trigger for what came later. I kept trying to figure out what the problem was and finally realized that it was the rat poison Coumadin! I decided that enough was enough and got myself hauled off to hospital very late on Monday night. The ER doc stated that it could not possibly be the Coumadin, and the doc on the floor stated unequivacably that it was that I sometimes take a few of my meds without eating. Then, the blood work came back! It was indeed the Coumadin. So much for those two residents. The fun part came on Tuesa=day night when I got my revenge on that ward which was the very one that had treated me so badly when I had my stroke in 1998. This part is more than a little gross, but, I quite enjoyed it as it put a screeching halt to that stupid resident trying to send me home!I was hit by the most urgent need to get to the bog, but didn't quite make it. I managed to fill my jammy bottoms with a mess worthy of, well, me, and leave not a little of it on the floor. They washed me up and tucked me into a nice clean bed in another room. I had no sooner settled in when the urge struck again and I raced for the bog, again just seconds too late. There I sat, surrounded by a huge puddle of mess on the floor while I filled the bog to overflowing. Dem Der called to see how I was doing, and I had to ask him to the nurses to rescue me as I was flooded in. I so wish I had thought to take a picture of the nurse's face when he opened the door! He raced off to get three other nurses to get me out of there. My last view of the bathroom as they backed me out was truly insane. Who would have thought you could fill a toilet to overflowing? Well, I did. In fact it looked like someone had set off a poop bomb in there. It was everywhere. The toilet was not only full, it was coated on the outside as well, and the floor. The nurses got me cleaned up again and put me in a nice lilac colored Depends. I must say that it was a most satisfying revenge on those same people who were so mean in 1998. I did feel bad for the guy who had to clean it up. None of it was his fault.
That was when they decided that it was indeed the Coumadin and because there was some blood in the sample they sent off, it was decided to stick a tube down my throat to empty my stomach to see if there was any blood there which might indicate that idiot resident was right too. Not a drop. So much for her. They started giving something IV that would bring down the poisonous levels of the rat poison, and sent me off for an abdominal ultra sound, which showed a gall stone that had nothing to do with any of it.They srung me on Thursday afternoon with a whole list of things to do and not do, and tests to have as and when. Now, I'm happily at home and savoring the happy memories of getting my own back at those horrid people! Maybe the next time they'll take me a little more seriously when I tell them someting. That was just the highlight of the week. There were lots of little triumphs as well. But, I'm home now and feeling better. No more nausea and on Monday my doc and I will sit down and redo all my meds as they added three more to the list. But no more rat poison! And no more late night barfing after taking that blasted Coumadin.
On the bright side, the nausea has gone away. On the dark side, I just don't at all feel like eating. Eating doesn't upset my stomach any more, but it seems that a strange pain has moved into my gut under squatter's conditions. It's there all the time, just under the radar. Last night it felt like a huge snake slithering around. I wonder what that's about. I will take the issue to clinic on Sunday.
The really good news is that I've lost enough weight to be out of the obese category, and smack in the middle of the overweight one. Now all I have to do is lose enough to get into the normal category. That will be a day for celebration!
And just to make things interesting, the surgeon who looks at my burn evrey two weeks says it's gotten a little worse. That's just fine with me, because *I* know it's gotten a little better. It doesn't hurt like it used to and the itching of the surrounding area has prett much stopped. I wonder if that has anything to do with the new band aid type dressing I'm using coupled with being back in sandals because things have warmed up just enough to stop wearing those heavy winter sock slippers. Time will tell. I'm just happy that it's less bothersome these days.
I don't remember ever being this sick before. It's getting better, but, I'm not quite there yet. It all started on March 2 when Golan and I went to Acre to see my ortho doc, and stopped on the way home to eat a restaurant that he highly recommended. Lamb addict that I am, I had a lamb shislik. It wasn't very good, so I didn't finish it. I took the left overs home for Peg and he gobbled them right down. Come morning we both had the squits and by evening I had developed the worst case of nausea imaginable. All nught long I did sit ups from my semi reclining sleeping position to release the most unbelievable burps ever. Finally, at around, 0300, I managed to throw up. The next day, the very thought of food made me ill. This ritual went on for two weeks, and I have lost a lot of weight. This is good. One Thursday, I finally cried "Uncle", and went to the gastro guy at the clinic. He listened to my tale of woe and barf, then told me he was going to prescribe a pill that should get things moving in the right direction. He said that all the barfing might have reversed the natural downward route of food so that instead of continueing downward, it just came right back up. That made a kind of twisted sense to me as being something my body would do to me. I started taking the pills Thursday night, and they didn't work at all. Being the stubborn gimp that I am, I kept on with them Friday morning,and through Saturday and kept down a youghurt. I am cautiously optimistic about this, but still don't feel like eating anything. I know I have to, but don't want to. Never mind that there's nothing in the house to eat. I have to plan meals with these pills. I'm supposed to eat 45 minutes after taking the pill. I'm rying to work out a schedule of things to eat, that I can turn into a grocery shopping list. I'm still a little weak, but have to go grocery shopping soon.
So, if my three faithful readers have been wondering where I've been; I've been in bed. I'm back now.
Political correctness can be taken to lengths never before dreamed of by the least likely organizations. The United States Figure Skating Association is now giving out four medals instead of the traditional three; Gold, Silver, Bronze and now Pewter. What will they do next? Start giving out medals according the wedding anniversary list in reverse order?
This has been an incredible two months for me. I got to watch the European Figure Skating Champonships, the American ones and the Jr. World's. The American was on the same week as the European, but wasn't shown here until last week. It was fantastic to get a good picture of who will be competing in the World's next month. Seeing the Jrs was a rare treat because the Jrs are not usually broadcast at all.
WAtching the Srs on both Eurosport and ESPN so close together served to emphasize the difference in commentating skills between the ones on each network. ESPN usually has big name winners from the past commentating. Eurosports has has ex medalists and some are even coaches today. They are, however, much better commentaters than the ESPN crew. They really are good and are positive about all the skaters. They have some great patter that makes listening to them seem more personal somehow. It truly is a night and day difference. I'm glad that we will get World's through Eurosport. They make it ever so much more pleasant.
After watching the Europeans I wondered if the Americans would have anyone to give them a fight because they were fantastically good. Then, I got to see the Americans while the Europeans were still fresh in my mind. Worl's is going to be a breathtaking battle in most of the competitions. I can't wait for the miracle of TV to transport me to Los Angeles for the 2009 World Figure Skating Competition. Thank you Eurosport.
It hit me the other day that things have really changed in my outlook since the first days, weeks, and months after my stroke in 1998.
One of the first things I did after getting my first scooter was to get a proper mobile phone. I remember wondering if I would even live long enough to get to the end of the 36 month commitment period. I also remember wondering every time I made any kind of plans whether I'd still be around to carry them out. Having made it this far, 11 years post stroke, and almost 4 after the heart attack, I've gradually stopped wondering about making plans or thinking about making them for more than a month in advance. Don't get me wrong. I'm not taking anything for granted. I am perfectly well aware that I might not wake up on any given morning, and do give heart felt thanks when I do wake up. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I love my life. Being a gimp is better than not being. I wonder if that has anything to do with not having any expectations. I just somehow seem to charge ahead and deal with things as they come up. Living my life is a little like following a soap opera every day for 57 years. I always want to know what will happen next and how things will resolve themselves. I guess it would be fair to say that I am my own daytime soap opera.
Quirky? Did someone call me quirky?
