I am finally coming up for air after several months straight of nonstop work.
Luckily, I did get to spend some quality time with my couch this weekend. Unluckily, it was because I had food poisoning earrrrly Saturday morning. I don't recall ever being that sick. The body really is quite amazing when it comes to purging bad food. I just wish I hadn't gone with the lemon pepper flavor for my bad fish or the wild rice medley. I am not exaggerating when I say it was the worst thing ever to come back up. Dear God.
But, now I've started eating again, and so I will also start blogging again. It feels good to be able to breathe.
Showing posts with label sick. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sick. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Independence Day
This fourth of July, instead of practicing all-American pastimes like grilling steaks and eating pie and setting off fireworks, the holiday found us - my husband, mother, and myself - sitting in a hospital waiting room for the better part of the day while my father was operated on.
It all began the day before, when my mother went off to our woods to pick black raspberries. My dad tried to push himself up out of bed using his walker, but he slipped to the floor when he found his legs essentially paralyzed and useless. While he could feel someone touch his skin, he could not make the legs move. He was unable to reach the phone and lay on the floor until my mother returned several hours later. He told her to call an ambulance, and they took him to the hospital. My mother then called me, audibly upset, which of course made me upset, and Husband and I abandoned our house projects for the day and immediately went to the hospital. After an MRI and other testing, the doctor determined the staph infection was likely back and the inflamed tissue was pressing on the spinal nerves that controlled his legs. He had arrived at the hospital in the early afternoon Friday and was in surgery by 8 a.m. the next morning, July 4.
The surgery that he endured had been suggested at the beginning of his previous recovery. It was a major, invasive surgery that the doctors wanted to avoid, if possible, so they had given him a clamshell back brace instead, which had been working out well. Just one week prior he tottered easily out of the house to meet me when I pulled up, using two canes and wearing his clamshell brace. He had even taken a short drive to rubberneck the crops just a day before. But the insidious infection had returned after his antibiotics were stopped, and again wreaked havoc on his body.
A heart surgeon opened his front/side, removed a small piece of rib, spread the ribs, and deflated a lung to provide access for the neurosurgeon to operate on his vertebrae. The inflamed area of "reactive tissue" was removed and replaced with a metal cage. We were able to visit him, in protective gowns and gloves, several hours later. He was loopy, but he had not lost his sense of humor. When we returned to visit the next day, he was able to move his left leg, although the right still has not caught up. Yesterday, the physical therapist made him sit up on the side of his bed, and he was moved out of the ICU into the acute care wing. Still, the doctors speculated he will be in the hospital for three weeks.
I pray that this surgery, performed on Independence Day, will signal true independence for him, finally. This has been a long, long road for my father and his devoted nurse, my mother. Only time will tell if this will set him free. Please send healing thoughts his way.
It all began the day before, when my mother went off to our woods to pick black raspberries. My dad tried to push himself up out of bed using his walker, but he slipped to the floor when he found his legs essentially paralyzed and useless. While he could feel someone touch his skin, he could not make the legs move. He was unable to reach the phone and lay on the floor until my mother returned several hours later. He told her to call an ambulance, and they took him to the hospital. My mother then called me, audibly upset, which of course made me upset, and Husband and I abandoned our house projects for the day and immediately went to the hospital. After an MRI and other testing, the doctor determined the staph infection was likely back and the inflamed tissue was pressing on the spinal nerves that controlled his legs. He had arrived at the hospital in the early afternoon Friday and was in surgery by 8 a.m. the next morning, July 4.
The surgery that he endured had been suggested at the beginning of his previous recovery. It was a major, invasive surgery that the doctors wanted to avoid, if possible, so they had given him a clamshell back brace instead, which had been working out well. Just one week prior he tottered easily out of the house to meet me when I pulled up, using two canes and wearing his clamshell brace. He had even taken a short drive to rubberneck the crops just a day before. But the insidious infection had returned after his antibiotics were stopped, and again wreaked havoc on his body.
A heart surgeon opened his front/side, removed a small piece of rib, spread the ribs, and deflated a lung to provide access for the neurosurgeon to operate on his vertebrae. The inflamed area of "reactive tissue" was removed and replaced with a metal cage. We were able to visit him, in protective gowns and gloves, several hours later. He was loopy, but he had not lost his sense of humor. When we returned to visit the next day, he was able to move his left leg, although the right still has not caught up. Yesterday, the physical therapist made him sit up on the side of his bed, and he was moved out of the ICU into the acute care wing. Still, the doctors speculated he will be in the hospital for three weeks.
I pray that this surgery, performed on Independence Day, will signal true independence for him, finally. This has been a long, long road for my father and his devoted nurse, my mother. Only time will tell if this will set him free. Please send healing thoughts his way.
Friday, February 13, 2009
*Grumble, Grumble*
Yesterday, I stayed "home" because I thought I was coming down with the flu, which was confirmed when I threw up midday. It seems to be the 24-hour kind, because I was feeling much better later that evening (although I'm starting to feel bad again this morning). Poor husband must have caught the flu from me because he was up early this morning getting rid of his pot roast from the night before. There wasn't much time left until my alarm would have rung, so I just got up and showered and dressed and took off for work. However, because today is turning out to be one of The Best Days in My Life, fifteen minutes into the drive Husband called to tell me that the parking pass he'd used the day before was still sitting on the dresser. So I turned around, drove back, and picked it up. Turns out, I also forgot my wedding rings, which causes freak-outs every ten minutes when I re-realize they're not on my fingers, and apparently the maintenance people are putting up new blinds in our office building because mine have been removed from my window and blinding light is streaming into the room. I prefer a dark, cave-like workspace. And it's only 8:00 a.m.
Oh, yes, it's turning out to be an awesome day.
Oh, yes, it's turning out to be an awesome day.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Of Christmas cards and colds and idiots
Christmas inches closer and closer. This year, I was able to throw together a few Christmas cards, handmade by yours truly, and got them out in the mail last weekend. Here's a sampling of the fare:
If you didn't receive one in the mail, I am sorry. Perhaps I just don't love you enough (although I probably just didn't have enough cards...there are only so many glittery snowmen to go around! Also, I ran out of envelopes. It was a very lean Christmas card year that I blame completely on my lack of craft space.)
Is any of this making sense? I have been down with a sore throat/cough/runny nose/cold/black plague of some kind for a few days now. I stayed home from work yesterday and, thanks to a Nyquil-induced coma, I slept until 3 p.m. Yes, that's three o'clock in the afternoon. Then I got up, did some laundry, wrapped a few final Christmas presents, and completely avoided the editing work sitting in my inbox. But I did make dinner. Although I completely avoid all responsibility if the rest of the household comes down with a similar black plague.
Just when I was feeling better, Husband and I headed into work this morning (a few hours late due to the icy road conditions). We putted along at a reasonable speed, only to be passed by a Jeep which, in the middle of passing, spun out of control coming inches from hitting my poor little red car. I think Husband really scared the other driver when he stepped out of our car and crossed the road to the ditch where the Jeep had come to rest. He was just going to check and see if the man was okay, but he does look rather intimidating with his newly shorn head (my doing) and bulky coat. The man scurried through the field and went on, seemingly unhurt, only to pass another car only a few miles ahead (IDIOT).
So, as a wrap-up to this post that I've completely lost control of: If you didn't receive a spectacular Christmas card, handmade by moi, make me love you more and better luck next year; Avoid my bodily emissions at all costs lest you be stricken with the plague; don't be an idiot driving out on the roads because you will die or some fellow driver will kill you.
That is all. I wish I'd brought some Nyquil to work...
If you didn't receive one in the mail, I am sorry. Perhaps I just don't love you enough (although I probably just didn't have enough cards...there are only so many glittery snowmen to go around! Also, I ran out of envelopes. It was a very lean Christmas card year that I blame completely on my lack of craft space.)
Is any of this making sense? I have been down with a sore throat/cough/runny nose/cold/black plague of some kind for a few days now. I stayed home from work yesterday and, thanks to a Nyquil-induced coma, I slept until 3 p.m. Yes, that's three o'clock in the afternoon. Then I got up, did some laundry, wrapped a few final Christmas presents, and completely avoided the editing work sitting in my inbox. But I did make dinner. Although I completely avoid all responsibility if the rest of the household comes down with a similar black plague.
Just when I was feeling better, Husband and I headed into work this morning (a few hours late due to the icy road conditions). We putted along at a reasonable speed, only to be passed by a Jeep which, in the middle of passing, spun out of control coming inches from hitting my poor little red car. I think Husband really scared the other driver when he stepped out of our car and crossed the road to the ditch where the Jeep had come to rest. He was just going to check and see if the man was okay, but he does look rather intimidating with his newly shorn head (my doing) and bulky coat. The man scurried through the field and went on, seemingly unhurt, only to pass another car only a few miles ahead (IDIOT).
So, as a wrap-up to this post that I've completely lost control of: If you didn't receive a spectacular Christmas card, handmade by moi, make me love you more and better luck next year; Avoid my bodily emissions at all costs lest you be stricken with the plague; don't be an idiot driving out on the roads because you will die or some fellow driver will kill you.
That is all. I wish I'd brought some Nyquil to work...
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Sick
Husband and I are sick - blah! We probably had some bug in our systems and after spending the night sleeping in a very cold hotel room after a wedding this past weekend, I think the cold air exacerbated whatever was floating around our systems and we came down with our current affliction (we share everything...) Unfortunately, we had to leave work about six hours early Monday to go home and slip into deep, joint comas which seemed to revive us enough to head back to work the next day.
I felt pretty bad about taking the sick time because within the first three months at my new job at the Big, Fancy University, I'm not supposed to take any time off, except for emergencies...probably like having both of my hands severed at the wrists (you see, then I wouldn't be able to type or make corrections to the manuscripts and wouldn't be any use to them anyway). Fortunately, my current boss was understanding (and could probably care less at this point as he will be leaving in just two weeks for a Bigger, Fancier University).
However, I despise that my time off is dictated by "The Man," probably because I'm so used to a great degree of flexibility in the jobs I have held previously. At the Small Town Newspaper I worked for I told them when I would be in, and could change these hours at my will. At my last job at Dinky College, I could pretty much take time whenever I needed it (not that anyone would have missed me anyway...I worked in the basement where few dared tread and I wouldn't see another human being for days on end).
I'm sure as time progresses, vacation and sick time will remain a headache in an institution that actually keeps track of its employees and makes sure they fulfill their obligations to the Big, Fancy University. I don't even want to think about maternity leave and how difficult that will be to coordinate right now (for a variety of reasons, the main one being I'm not interested in any offspring just yet). Just another adjustment in my new Real Job in the Real World.
Stay in college, kids.
I felt pretty bad about taking the sick time because within the first three months at my new job at the Big, Fancy University, I'm not supposed to take any time off, except for emergencies...probably like having both of my hands severed at the wrists (you see, then I wouldn't be able to type or make corrections to the manuscripts and wouldn't be any use to them anyway). Fortunately, my current boss was understanding (and could probably care less at this point as he will be leaving in just two weeks for a Bigger, Fancier University).
However, I despise that my time off is dictated by "The Man," probably because I'm so used to a great degree of flexibility in the jobs I have held previously. At the Small Town Newspaper I worked for I told them when I would be in, and could change these hours at my will. At my last job at Dinky College, I could pretty much take time whenever I needed it (not that anyone would have missed me anyway...I worked in the basement where few dared tread and I wouldn't see another human being for days on end).
I'm sure as time progresses, vacation and sick time will remain a headache in an institution that actually keeps track of its employees and makes sure they fulfill their obligations to the Big, Fancy University. I don't even want to think about maternity leave and how difficult that will be to coordinate right now (for a variety of reasons, the main one being I'm not interested in any offspring just yet). Just another adjustment in my new Real Job in the Real World.
Stay in college, kids.
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