What Is Wrong with Me? Take Some Blood.

A phone and menu was given to me during my 2nd day in the ICU. I chose a treat I figured I might be able to keep down. I had arrived the first day severely dehydrated, IV fluids were immediately begun and soon to follow antibiotics and Valium for my spasticity. (Though the Valium never seemed to do a thing for me before and I never took the dose prescribed: 5mg every 3hrs; yeah, having seen Valley of the Dolls there was no way I was “going there,” though my then neurologist told me “…addiction is just a behavior,” yeah sure and cancer is just unreleased anger ( I prefer science to pop psychology)

I digress---I ordered something I hadn’t eaten in 45 years: Jello. The best damn Jello I ever ate and I crave Jello even now. When the nurse saw I ate the Jello with no problem, she suggested a milkshake. WHAT?! So, at 2AM I called and ordered a milkshake. Then at 5AM eggs, potatoes, and toast. Then at 11AM a hamburger, fries, and salad. All good nutrition out the hidden window. Why was the staff fussing over pizza?

The staff finally coerced the pizza store owner to bring some pizzas. Night two I heard a lot about how treacherous the streets were. All this time the tests on my body continued, my arms were running out of veins and skin to puncture. A catheter was shoved in day one. Every test found nothing wrong. All my systems were working fine. Still the specialists visited, with no news, and my patience was wearing thin.

“Has my neurologist checked in?” “No.” (She IS affiliated with this large Seattle hospital.) Obviously, the fact that I had MS meant nothing and the fact that infections can cause exacerbations meant nothing to anyone but me. I ordered another milkshake, held out my arm for another needle (Did I mention that in the ER a scrub DROPPED a needle on the floor, picked it up and stuck it in me? Is that like…kosher? A nearby nurse said to him, “Did you just drop that on the FLOOR?” “It’s okay,” he replied nonchalantly.)

Day three I was suddenly being rolled out of my room and into another, next to a talkative roommate who wanted to know alllll about me. My daily Dr. stopped by to say they couldn’t find anything wrong and I might get to go home, but the infectious disease Dr. wanted to stop by first. “Yeah! Can I take my regular MS drug now?” He said sure. I was shocked that during all my time there my spasticity was not bad at all. Hmmm

After taking my Zanaflex I dosed off to the sound of my roommate asking something about Indiana. I awoke to see about five doctors, several nurses, and a dude taking my blood pressure. One of the doctors said, “Do you know where you are?” (Was this a game?) “Seattle,” I replied while remembering how my mother had been questioned when she was being checked for Alzheimer’s.

“Where in Seattle?” asked the doctor. PLEEZZZZ with a raise of one eyebrow and a grin, I named the hospital. He wouldn’t let up. “And do you know who I am?” Well, since I’d never seen him before in my life I jokingly said, “Bob!” Then the BP dude switched cuffs, “There is nothing wrong with these,” he said in a concerned voice as I realized that Dr. was MY Dr. who had been seeing me daily.

My blood pressure was 60/17. Back to the ICU.

TO BE CONTINUED…