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Time to meet my two constant companions, who’ve been with me for the past seven days.
Mr. Grey is not too bad, he’s smaller, a lightweight, and more managable. On his own, he’s fairly easy to handle. Mr. Blue on the other hand is bigger, and while not much heavier, he’s more of a handful to keep track of. It’s the bulk, I think.
Presently, the final two IV bags that were prescribed last week will be installed into my two friends here. Today I need to find a doctor to make the call as to whether those last two hits of drugs will be enough. Will my two companions be leaving me tomorrow? Or will another RX be issued, so my Blue and Grey comrades can remain with me even longer?
To be honest, I won’t be sorry to see these two nylon fellows leave. They have a job to do, of course, but they are so clingy and demanding.
Naturally, I have gotten to know them over the course of the week. Not intimately mind you – it’s quite easy to ignore the urge to take things apart, when said things are directly wired into your bloodstream and are playing an important role in maintaining your health. I’ve even refrained from button-pressing. Mostly.
Through simple observation, I have figured how to reload them – removing the empty bag, spiking a fresh bag, resetting the reservoir volume counter. That came in handy yesterday when the nurse didn’t come by, and I suspect it will come in handy again today as well.
One ought to be proactive in one’s own healthcare matters.
Update: sounds like my friends will be staying an extra two days. Instead of parting ways tomorrow, they’ll be hanging around until Thursday.
Here we are, Friday already! Still waiting for the punch line from Monday’s running joke.
Instead, it just keeps going, and going.
They wired me up with two IV pumps and two tubes, to fill me full of two different antibiotics. And not a day’s gone by that there hasn’t been a problem. They go into shutdown alarm mode, and start beeping. (At 2:00 in the morning.) Or they act like they’re running fine, but when the nurse goes to swap in a fresh medicine bag, we discover that the old one is still half-full and the machine’s been cheating me.
Till last night, when everything shut down completely.
So come Friday and I’ve had half doses, missed doses, and now complete failure.
Now I’m sitting around waiting for a nurse who may or may not know what to do, may or may not be able to fix it, and in fact may or may not actually show up in a timely fashion.
If the failfest continues, I’ll have no option but to go back to the hospital and see if I can get them to fix it. My main concern is that they’ll just want to admit me – considering the ongoing failure that home care has been, so far.
I just really, really don’t want to get stuck at the hospital…
It’s like the set-up for a joke, really.
First, despite the antibiotics and anti-inflamatories, my leg seems to be getting worse, not better.
Then at work, I notice I seem to have a fever.
So I call my doctor and she’s like, yeah, actually you should go to the hospital. Now.
So I go home first, and while I’m there I check the mail.
And the first letter I open starts with “Dear Prospective Juror…”
Now I’m off to the hospital, to see what else the day has in store for me!
Not a fan of Monday – and the morning is especially unloved. Once I take over the world, I think I’ll extend the weekends to include Monday, so everyone gets a 3-day weekend.
Yesterday was Fathers’ Day. I went to the hospital to spend some time with my dad. He got through last week’s surgery ok, but he’s been in a lot of pain. It’s difficult to see him like that – I imagine it’s always hard for someone to see one of their parents all weakened and suffering. Looking ahead, hopefully he’ll be well enough to go home this week.
Also ahead, there’s like a week and a half till the end of the month and I’ve got a small mountain of work to get through by then. Between that and visits to the hospital et cetera, I’m already feeling all tapped out and exhausted.
In other mundane news, the world cup is into it’s 2nd week and England is acting like they’re homesick and want to get out of South Africa as quickly as possible. They just have to endure one more match on Wednesday then they can pack up and leave. Booooo. I don’t know who else to cheer for; I guess I’ll decide that on a match-by-match basis.
Right now I’m rooting for North Korea as they face Portugal… No particular reason other than I tend to root for the underdogs, and I like watching big upsets.
Another Sunday, some more photos. I decided to switch things up a bit today, I wanted to take pictures of things, man-made things, rather than landscapes. Further, I wanted to take photos of old things, and I decided to be all faux-moody and use a monochrome filter. As with previous expeditions, all photos were taken with my trusty 30mm f/1.4 lens.
My first stop took me to the Great War Flying Museum, which is housed in a small hangar and adjoining building at the Brampton Flying Club. The museum is an interesting spot which we’re fortunate to have here in Brampton. They have a number of flying planes from WWI in the hangar, and some very interesting stuff in the museum. Unfortunately the planes were bunched up close together making photos difficult, and all the really keen stuff in the museum was behind glass which further hampered my efforts. Still, it was a fascinating place and I have a very nice chat with two of the volunteers there, Richard and his wife.
From the Flying Museum, I went northwest to the Cheltenham Brick Works, a semi-abandoned set of buildings that had been in operation up until the 1950’s. This proved another photographic disappointment as the really interesting stuff is all kept safely out of public reach via chain-link and barbed wire.
Finally I visited the old abandoned Peel Memorial Hospital. In many ways, an abandoned run-down hospital is rather sad. Particularily when it’s the nearest hospital to my home, and I visited it as a patient as recently as 4 years ago… surprising how fast things fall apart when left alone.
So I wake up and I’m in a hospital bed, in a hospital ward. I don’t remember what happened, but I have a headache and I’m a bit dizzy / lightheaded, so I figure I must have banged my head and had a concussion. The doctors and nurses are very nice, and I learn that I’m in a hospital in Paris. This doesn’t phase me, although I don’t remember going to France. And oddly, everyone speaks English.