2nd Wind, June 2000
"Because of our routines we forget that life is an ongoing adventure."
-Maya Angelou
It would take a very sensitive timing device to measure the time between a stubbed toe and a complete plastering to the living room floor. A seismograph could have been appropriate, too. From my point of view (mostly carpet) there had been no time lapse. The day before Palm Sunday (April 15) 1 was walking through the house and then I wasn't. I knew Ed and Beth were due in about 10 min. so I just lay there -- a lady in waiting. When they opened the front door, all they could see was my feet (actually a good portion of me) but I waved an arm in greeting. They picked me up (we were told later, that was a no-no), called 911 and I was on my way to Emergency.
After the customary hours in the Emergency Room I was transferred to a private room in the hospital. A young lady came to record my data. As often happens, when she saw an elderly person with a daughter, she started asking Beth the questions. After two or three, Beth said, "I don't know that. Why don't you ask my mother?" Pause. "Will she be able to answer?" There I was, fully conscious and alert (I think) but OLD. So the gal asked what medications I took. I produced a list and started reading them to her. She chewed her pencil a minute and said, "How do you spell that?" "L-O-Z-O-L." We traveled slowly through the list. Then she asked what my problem was (physically, I presume). I told her an injury to my back. I felt if she had to write "suspected acute aggravation of a spondylolisthesis" it might have driven her permanently from the medical field.
I was lucky enough to have arrived the first week after the new electronic beds were delivered. There was a solid panel. on the bed rails -- both sides -- with a "dashboard," or is it a console? Anyway, you are confronted by stick figures illustrating the position you desire and buttons with arrows indicating "feet up," "head down," etc. There's a TV remote built in, with channel changes and volume, buttons for a reading light and closed captioning -- everything but a spigot for beer. Oh yes, and a glowing call button. Since many confused (OLD) people tend to end up in the hospital, I can picture the potential chaos as they traverse this electronic maze. By the time I mastered it all it was time to go home. One small detail had been overlooked and I soon discovered it. You can be parked on a commode out of reach of the sophisticated system, especially the call button, which I even tried reaching with a toe. That feature may have been designed by an overworked nurses' union.
I made the discovery that coughing, which was necessary to keep my lungs clear, pulled a very reluctant and painful muscle in my left rump. Now, I don't feel I should question the Almighty, but who in his right mind would do a wiring job like that? Perhaps one of the apprentice angels on "Assembly" misread the blueprints.
I also relearned the fact that the most important art form when hospitalized is that of elimination -- gas, liquids or solids. At one point I was flunking both liquids and solids, but I always excelled in gas.
I was in the hospital four days, then sent home. After two weeks of increasing pain and decreasing mobility I went back to Emergency where further x-rays showed a compression fracture of the lower spine. I knew I had something. I was sent to a care and rehab facility for pain control and physiotherapy. The pain control didn't materialize. After 16 days, my personal physician told Beth, "Get her out of there." When I was checked out, the staff discovered (surprise!) a supply of morphine had come with me. I never got it, but from the agitation of the staff we gathered some was missing.
Being placed in a facility where 80% of the patients have Alzheimer's was an experience. I wondered whether I could retain my spirit in the midst of so many lost ones. I think I did. And, even there, there was humor as well as pathos.
Our room was frequently the dead end for lost wheelchair wanderers, provided they got past the door. My roommate could greet the visitor graciously or shout, "Get out! This is MY room." I asked one sweet lady, "What's your name?" She replied, "Al Carter." I said, "Al is an unusual name for a girl." She explained, "That's my husband's name." "And," I questioned, "What was your name before you married?" She pondered a moment, "I don't remember." The next day she was Velma Carter.
Someone across the hall would start a sing-song chant. "I have to go to the bathroom" -- over and over. The second verse was "I'm going to piddle in the bed." I never heard a third verse. I learned she was in diapers, so it wasn't a crisis from the staff viewpoint.
I finally met, by wheelchair, a person in the hall who looked alert -- a retired businesswoman type with a current best seller on her lap. We talked awhile and I asked her why she was there. She replied briskly, "I'm not sure. I think it's my mind." I have no idea whether she was serious or pulling my leg.
The first semi-preserved man I talked to in therapy seemed "with it" until he started telling me how uneasy he was with his roommate who was a drug dealer with lots of cash and a gun (in a care home!). I said, "Maybe he's hallucinating from the medication and making this up." He thought a minute and said, "And maybe I am."
I never did find anyone I was sure was OK, but on the other hand, maybe one of them was checking on me and was equally uncertain.
Mother's Day came during my stay. Don and Ken, friends from church, had visited me during the week before and became aware of the potential noise level. On Mother's Day they sent me a gift I considered the most imaginative, as well as appropriate -- a pair of ear plugs.
Now I am home with 24-hour care. Again I found a Fijian helper who miraculously became available just when I needed her. Maraia (pronounced Mer-eye-ah) is 30 years young and her husband is a student at Sacramento University. In Fiji, she had worked in a bank, then in the administration offices of Fiji Airlines. So I've acquired a computer-literate secretary as well as a care giver. She is also good company. On weekends, my friend Diana -- retired registered nurse -- comes. Diana is also my computer guru. Another friend, Sharon, is doing address labels. Courtesy of these three ladies, I was able to send this June issue. My cup runneth over.
I've been given no time limit for healing -- just that it takes time. I will have to use a walker in the future. I currently have little, or at least manageable, pain. Things could be a lot worse.
Beth has done a wonderful job of managing details, seeing me daily, getting a cell phone, paying bills, etc. etc. I am blessed.
I've loved hearing from so many of you -- maybe I should do this more often (!?!!) And I truly have appreciated your prayers. I won't send personal written thank-yous this month, but am doing so mentally.
I hope each of you, if you must fall now and then, can do it more gracefully than I.
Love, Darlys
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NEW BABY
With the help of a fertility specialist, a 65-year-old woman had a baby. All her relatives came to visit and meet the newest member of their family. When they asked to see the baby, the 65-year-old mother said "not yet." A little later they again asked to see the baby. The mother repeated, "not yet." Finally they said, "When can we see the baby?" And the mother said, "When the baby cries." And they asked, "Why do we have to wait until the baby cries?" The new mother said, "Because I forgot where I put it."
KIDS IN CHURCH
A 6 year old was overheard reciting the Lord's Prayer at a church service. "And forgive us our trash passes as we forgive those who passed trash against us."
After a church service on Sunday morning, a young boy suddenly announced to his mother, "Mom, I've decided to become a minister when I grow up." "That's okay with us, but what made you decide that?" "Well, said the little boy, "I have to go to church on Sunday anyway and I figure it will be more fun to stand up and yell than to sit and listen."
A Sunday School teacher challenged her children to take some time on Sunday afternoon to write a letter to God. They were to bring their letter back the following Sunday. One little boy wrote, "Dear God, we had a good time at church today. Wish you could have been there."
A father took his 5-year-old son to several baseball games where The Star-Spangled Banner was sung before the start of each game. Then the father and son attended a church on a Sunday shortly before Independence Day. The congregation sang The Star-Spangled Banner, and after everyone sat down, the little boy suddenly yelled out, "PLAY BALL!!!"
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