On Friday it was a gorgeous sunny morning. I hopped a bus and went downtown to buy some guilders for my upcoming trip to Holland.
On Friday it was a gorgeous sunny morning. I hopped a bus and went downtown to
buy some guilders for my upcoming trip to Holland.
It seems more real when I am doing something to make the trip happen.
When I returned to the house, about 12:30,I took off my coat, slung it sloppily across a chairback, untied my shoes, and said something, to Carl. He looked up and said "you're mumbling." I thought he was hard of hearing and repeated myself, and he said "you look awful., and something's wrong; one side of your face isn't working"
"No it's fine,.. I'm just tired"
and I went to lay down on the sofa, but missed it,
and sort of lay down on the floor. Verry gently, and cool-ly,
in my mind.
So he said "I'm calling 9-1-1"
and I said "no nothing's wrong, but you can call Bette,"
(our dear friend, a nurse practioner, and like our*other-daughter*,)
"she'll tell you".
So he did and she came right over,
and then said to him "call 9-1-1- "
and before I knew it there were 3 EMT/paramedics, and 5(!) firemen in our
living room.
"Yikes" was my thought of the moment. They happened to be training
in our neighborhood. Anchorage has a very fine corps of paramedics. I did
remind them that I "was fine". Continuously. But they took me to the
hospital anyway. And I got scolded, but nicely, by Bette for not letting Carl
call 9-11 right away. Especially since I know better.
The staff on attendance at the Alaska Regional Hospital's Emergency Room took
very fine care of me. A neurologist took charge of my case as I became the
typical TIA - Transient Ischemic Attack - mini-stroke- case. The attending
cardiologists also paid close attendance to me - as the source of the little
clot in my brain came from my heart. I got to sample several of the
different tests and machines available in this largest Alaskan metropolis,
Heart and carotid sonograms, EEG, EKG, MRI, Catscan everything was done to
locate the clot and assses this old body.
I was admitted to the Progressive Care Cardiac Floor. It was not a very full
floor at this time and I was given a bed with a window view of the Chugach Range,
Merrill Field and the Palmer Mountains. People have done studies on hospital
patients and decided that beds with a view to the outdoors help healing...
that's almost a "duh" study.
. A portable stand for the heparin infusion
into my veins to break up the clot, and a pair of slippers Carl brought from
home, and I could walk the hospital corridors on this floor.
No computer available for patients' use,- heck I didn't even have a
pencil with me.
On my to-do list now: pack a little 911 bag with: notes about medications,
pencil, insurance phone number, crossword puzzle book,novel, etc
They plugged my little radio heart monitor in, so that the nurses-station could keep an eye on me as I meandered around.
And Sunday Noon I was released - follow-up visits next week to monitor the
situation. I also got the Doctors OK for that Holland trip - with the
standard advice to get up and walk through the plane's aisles every now and
then. But I knew that.
A most interesting weekend, but one I'd not care to repeat.
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deebrrs@mailcity.com