Sunday, April 7, 2013

Splash-Down

The Old Man's space odyssey continues.
Either three hours or eight seconds later, this nice lady was leaning over my bed  welcoming me back to Earth.  "Good afternoon, Mr. Jackson, how are you feeling?"  "How am I feeling?"  Hell lady, I don't even know where I am, and why do you look like Bette Midler with a full beard?  Com'on....give me a couple bars of "The Rose" so I can maybe figure things out.
I think I might have been a little better off asleep, because when I woke up again, Bette looked more like Brett and the whole beard thing made more sense.

I've learned a lot from the experience. For example; some nurses like to remain incognito.  One came to my bed and said, "Hello, my name is Sue."  The other nurse said, "That's not her real name."  Nurse 1 said, "Yeah, that's right but I'm going to remove your catheter, and I don't want you to hunt me down later."   It didn't take me but a minute to understand.  About 3-4 hours later, I discovered that another medical miracle related to that process had occurred.  Magically, they had figured out a way to turn ordinary urine into napalm.  If the Allies had known about this, WW II would have lasted 4 days.

Finally in a room of my very own, surrounded by friends and my treasured Miss Martha, realities became more apparent.  I became acutely aware of time.  I measured it in doses of pain medications, and programmed "wake-ups" for vital sign checks, drain checks.....say what?  "Drain checks"....there's stuff draining out of me?  Huh?  Suppose I need it?  And then one of the nurses made the true confession:  I needed to "void".  Lady, I've been in a void for the past 8 hours.  I've seen Bette Midler with a full beard, Godzilla in a tutu, Frankenstein's monster hitchhiking down I-40, and 4 pigs roasting me and my friend Gary on a cooker.  As she explained in a little less technical terms what she meant about "re-installation", I visualized a flame-thrower reversing itself and grabbed the walker at warp speed.

I'm doing a lot better.  The doctor says I'm "right where I should be" which is somewhat of a rarity in my life, and I must close with a word of high praise for the dedication, caring, and gentleness, I received in the hospital.  Personnel were attentive to my needs, the food was actually good, and my paths crossed with some dedicated people who gave no obvious thought to themselves.  Like the technician who came on duty late at night after working another job all day, and would continue to work a day job again after her shift was over.  By my count, she hadn't slept in at least two days, but her attention to me never wavered  and she showed no hint of frustration or impatience.  She was as gentle at the end of her shift as when it began.

 My whining ceased.



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