All I want for Christmas is a bloody BP machine.
Wednesday. Suffering from a severe headache due to a lack of blood pressure medication I was comatose in my bed. I awoke to a knock on the door. In a haze I arose and stumbled for my robe. My dog, Ted, whose normal practice is to bark at a simple leaf falling from the tree, was oddly mute. I proceeded to the front door. Though bleary eyed I just made out the door knob gently turning. The fear of God hit me, the door is unlocked and someone’s coming in. I had to think and think quick. There was no weapon in near proximity so I hid behind the door. I envisioned the intruder coming through the door, me launching myself onto their back, wrapping my arms around their neck and not unlike a bolting horse I would ride said intruder about the house. Needless to say I had no further plan. Ever so slowly the door knob twisted; gently the door started moving further back towards me, flush against the wall and holding my breath I waited, ready to pounce.
“Sue? Sooooo? Sue! What are you doing behind the door?”
“Elsa? What the fuck? You scared the shit out of me what are you doing coming through my door”.
“Sorry Sue, I was knocking and knocking and there was no response, I was worried that you were sick or worse, dead!”
“Elsa! I am sick, but you almost scared me to death. I thought you were an intruder. You said you would call first”.
“Sorry Sue, I forgot”
And there we have it.
Elsa was not my usual nurse nor is Elsa her real name; I always have pseudonyms for my Nurses and Doctors, it helps as for the life of me I can’t remember real names. Most of my pseudonyms are tame with the exception of one, “Hitler”, and I know one day it’s bound to happen I shall slip my pseudonym and there is no doubting it will be during a “Hitler” consultation.
Sporting a loose mane of unruly curls her mop was free and wild, complete with a psychedelic shirt I considered free and wild was something Elsa too may have been, in the 60’s. I had met Elsa for the first time Tuesday, It had been previously arranged that on her way to take my blood pressure Elsa would pick up my overdue BP meds from the pharmacy but,
Elsa forgot.
Then it was time to take my blood pressure, Elsa looked furiously through her oversized nap sack for the machine but,
Elsa forgot.
I am quick to note that Elsa had not forgotten her “best Mum” mug nor did she forget her packet of continental cup of soup, which she was quick to brew. So it was decided that Elsa would come back the next day being Wednesday and she would call first but,
Elsa forgot.
So instead she conducts a break and enter?
“Sorry Sue, I didn’t pick up your BP meds”,
Elsa forgot.
Time to take my BP again, Elsa pulls out the BP machine straps it to my arm and proceeds to pump up the cuff. Elsa places her fingers on my pulse and exclaimed,
“Sorry Sue your BP is 140 over….um…. I don’t know”.
Elsa forgot her stethoscope.
Looking rather efficient with her little checklist Elsa documented my day’s activities, each receiving a score out of 10. I received 3 out of 10 for breathing, 5 out of 10 for focus; given my lightening flash response to an intruder I thought this quite rude. 7 out of 10 for sleeping and I am proud to report my greatest achievement … (Drum roll)… a 10 out of 10 for my daily shit. Yep, who would have thought my excrement would bring such joy. I still had neither a blood pressure reading nor my BP medication, but I did have a triumphant crap, and an anxiety attack! Least she remembered the Ativan, Ativan being an anti-anxiety medication Elsa was quick to pop under my tongue. Elsa left me wildly sucking on my Ativan, then nicely sedated, I went back to bed. Till the phone rang, yep,
Elsa forgot her sunnies.
Today after I went on a bum steer to the Shrine of remembrance, which is another story (thanks Megan), I went by the pharmacy to pick up my forgotten BP Meds, same time I had my BP checked. It was a high reading, 145 over 110. This would account for the terrible headache and dizziness I had been suffering, least to say the fright!
Did I mention Elsa is a palliative care nurse sent to keep me comfortable?
So I have decided to save my pennies and buy my very own blood pressure machine and a dead bolt, just in-case Elsa forgets.
About Me
"And if I die before I wake I pray the lord my soul to take"...
"Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me.The Carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality"~Emily Dickinson
It was never my intention to keep a blog of activities or in this case non-activities, my feelings or thoughts, for I am not one to share freely. A survival mechanism instilled in childhood.
Even when faced with the most perilous of predicaments, I give the well rehearsed response, "I am fine, thank you".
I realise when people ask "how are you today?" they really mean, "tell me you are good so I can go about my way and not concern myself with your ailing health". God help me if I responded "I feel like shit and just want lay down and die".
I decided to keep this blog as some kind of a written legacy for my family, and in hope that others will gain insight into the heart and mind of one diagnosed as terminally ill. Yes I hear you, I have heard it before, "You are not terminal, you just need a double lung transplant, you will be fine". And you would be right! Yet to date I do not have my new and improved set of lungs, I wait and hope and pray.
My life is in the hands of a complete stranger, who in their time of ultimate grief can see through the despair and sleflessly choose to give me extended life. Till this wonderful opportunity presents there is still a real chance, I will soon die. I know others who have been in this place, this Limbo, their strength and determination is a never ending source of inspiration, yet it comes down to my strength, my will to live, and If I decided enough is enough, then so mote it be.
"For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?" ~Kahlil Gibran, from The Prophet.
So at the risk of being labelled as "negative", I will be writing my real feelings, laying my naked soul on a slab for the world to oggle.
Some of my writings will be boring, some will be of pain, others of happiness. Much of it will be re visiting times and places that have helped shaped me to be the person I am today. Times and places I have not spoken of to another living soul. I need to do this, so I can move on.
It is the innermost me.
It was never my intention to keep a blog of activities or in this case non-activities, my feelings or thoughts, for I am not one to share freely. A survival mechanism instilled in childhood.
Even when faced with the most perilous of predicaments, I give the well rehearsed response, "I am fine, thank you".
I realise when people ask "how are you today?" they really mean, "tell me you are good so I can go about my way and not concern myself with your ailing health". God help me if I responded "I feel like shit and just want lay down and die".
I decided to keep this blog as some kind of a written legacy for my family, and in hope that others will gain insight into the heart and mind of one diagnosed as terminally ill. Yes I hear you, I have heard it before, "You are not terminal, you just need a double lung transplant, you will be fine". And you would be right! Yet to date I do not have my new and improved set of lungs, I wait and hope and pray.
My life is in the hands of a complete stranger, who in their time of ultimate grief can see through the despair and sleflessly choose to give me extended life. Till this wonderful opportunity presents there is still a real chance, I will soon die. I know others who have been in this place, this Limbo, their strength and determination is a never ending source of inspiration, yet it comes down to my strength, my will to live, and If I decided enough is enough, then so mote it be.
"For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?" ~Kahlil Gibran, from The Prophet.
So at the risk of being labelled as "negative", I will be writing my real feelings, laying my naked soul on a slab for the world to oggle.
Some of my writings will be boring, some will be of pain, others of happiness. Much of it will be re visiting times and places that have helped shaped me to be the person I am today. Times and places I have not spoken of to another living soul. I need to do this, so I can move on.
It is the innermost me.
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LOL. She is either so very busy nursing, or she is in early stages of Alzheimer's. Either way I am hoping Elsa forgets us, permanent.
ReplyDeleteThe daily shit is a phenomenon. I always remember my Mum in hospital and the nurse asking her "how is your stool?" Mum, God bless her cotton socks, "well it's mahogany, with bits of red and blue". She was describing the old carved, wooden stool at home.
I would have flushed her sunnies...
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