RANDOM THOUGHTS AND HOSPITAL HAPPENINGS
I was awakened by a diarheal urge which proved to be massive bleeding, something I feared as a possibility since I was on blood thinners for almost 13 years following my stroke. I was rushed to the hospital by ambulance and underwent an angiography which was unable to find the bleeding source. Fortunately, the bleeding stopped on its own after three days and the blood loss did not require the following of a blood transfusion. I had been taking Plavix and baby aspirin and was told, as a result of the incident, to stop taking Plavix going forward and continue solely with the aspirin.
After spending ten hours in the chaotic and noisy atmosphere of the E.R., I was rolled into a room with two other patients. The room was dimly lit and quiet. I was greeted by a soft spoken Indian male nurse, surrounded by an aura of tranquility, whom I greatly appreciated. That is, until a half hour later, when a female patient, who was evidently sleeping, gave out a piercing scream which persisted at high pitch, pleading for help, without pause and hallucinating with curses and garbled talk. Realizing after coping for two hours, that I could not sleep, and developed a headache with increasing anxiety, I requested a transfer to another room which, understandably, was granted immediately.
The room was just two rooms down the corridor. My roommate was asleep as I settled in and was close to sleeping, when I was startled by his yell of pain and calling for help. As morning came and the day progressed, I came to realize that my hulking roommate, aged 67, suffered from a variety of painful complications, but was unreasonably demanding of the staff', harshly criticizing and insulting if he wasn't given immediate attention and overly flattering to those who pandered to him. As time went on, his language became foul and he enjoyed telling dirty jokes to the young female aids. I finally realized the man was schizophrenic when he had conversation with imaginary voices.
Hospitals are the last place to find rest when it is sorely needed. Sleep is interrupted by various staff visits. Phones ring incessantly, while staff members converse loudly and monitor alarms sound off at the slightest provocation. The endurance of nurses and aids amid all the chaos and patient demands, especially geriatrics in various phases of dementia, is extremely stressful and successfully tolerated only because of their concern to help those in need.
My concern during my four day stay in this hive of activity, was to minimize additional stress to my stroke symptoms as follows, (There has been no recovery following my stroke and an extreme decline since April. I was recently diagnosed with atrophy of the cerebellum beyond what a person my age might expect):
Hearing Loss: I suffer hearing loss in my right ear as a result of damage from an ill advised surgery. By sleeping on my left side, sound is muffled by my good ear against the pillow.
Vertigo: Has become so extreme that I now suffer chronic headaches and can barely walk even with the aid of a walker. Rather than chance falling while going through my daily ablution, I allow an aid to wash my body while lying in bed, something I would never allow in the past. The aid responsible for this duty was an attractive young woman. I must admit I enjoyed the attention.
Double Vision: At mealtime I would remove my prism glasses and focus on that food portion (usually dessert) thereby envisioning a double portion vanishing while being consumed, thus having my cake and eating it without the extra calories. Lol
Tremors: Essential tremors which are genetic in nature, usually passed on to half the offspring of an affected parent and worsens with age. Tremors are more extreme when complicated with a stroke. I cannot write, have difficulty with manual dexterity. Positioning the food tray, facing away from the other diner prevents embarrassment when holding a utensil or cup with two shaking hands to prevent spilling.
Tinnitus: While I have always been hypersensitive to noise,I am conditioned to ignore the constant sound of a “field of crickets.” It sometimes serves as a “white noise” to offset harsh sounds.
My degeneration is occurring rapidly. At age of 87, I have come to terms with my mortality. I have no fear of death,but do of lingering, painful dying. I dread the thought of dementia or Alzheimer's Disease or entering a nursing home. I cannot understand our humaneness in putting our pets to sleep when they are terminally ill, while disallowing fellow creatures to choose assistance in their own death with dignity.
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