Close to Nowhere
Monday of last week, instead of writing my column at home and emailing it to the editor, I went to the emergency room at Baptist Hospital in Oxford.
After a couple years being off dialysis my poor ole body was running down again. I've often said I hoped never to have to go back in the hospital after the marathon bout I went through several years ago, but I've learned to never say never.
Diagnosed with pulmonary edema, which simply means I had so much fluid on my lungs I couldn't breathe, I got to spend a few days getting poked and prodded again.
I was worried more about COVID-19 than I was being sick. However, with no visitors and only the same couple nurses, etc., the entire time, I had nothing to worry about. Even when I had to go to dialysis, the precautions were in place. It was weird at first, with everyone in clear face shields and masks, but after a bit you can get used to anything and it seems normal.
I know a lot of people are saying masks are useless and a political ploy and they should be ignored. As someone who would have a terrible time of it with the virus, I was so glad that all the precautions were being taken so seriously.
I know some folks are saying that the death rate is minuscule, etc., etc. I also have several friends who've lost family members to this minuscule death rate. As one lady said on the news recently, "One percent may not seem like a lot unless it's your mother."
Every nurse, aide, food nutritionist who came in my room had on a mask. And I was very grateful.
My youngest granddaughter Remy has become my driver and go-fer. I had to sign for her to come in, so she could bring me stuff. The best thing she brought me was a box of fig bars. I'd asked for Fig Newtons and they couldn't be found, so I got a box of Little Debbie fig bars. Man, they were so good!
Hospital food is not my favorite thing to eat, so that box of fig bars saved my life well, my sanity anyway.
I was able to come home Friday and I was so happy to be home that I cooked supper. Son Kris was happy to have something besides a sandwich also.
I think my cat Hobbes Jr. was as happy to see me as Kris. He stayed under my feet or in my lap for a couple of days. Every time he'd see me he'd meow and purr at me. I guess when your "hooman feeder"
vanishes the thought of never eating again could be unsettling.
Kris fed him, but apparently, it wasn't quite the same.
When I went into the hospital I could barely walk and breathing was so hard. When I came home, after a couple days dialysis and other treatment, I walked up the carport stairs without even panting.
Monday, I started regular dialysis again. I have to go to the clinic in Oxford as daughter Dana is an RN at the clinic in Holly Springs and family can't treat family. But I went to Oxford Fresenius before, so it's familiar.
Dialysis saved my life a couple years ago. And dialysis is saving my life again.
I'm so blessed.