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.