The Anti-Bucket List

#3 on My Anti-Bucket List

I didn't tell this story on the blog last night, because I had posted all I thought I had to say about it yesterday on Facebook. But a little distance and a day spent trying to stay out of pain have led me deeper and deeper into the labyrinth until the beast had to be confronted head on.

Late last week, I started to notice a twinge in my lower right back, in the muscle known scientifically as the Internal Abdominal Oblique. It was annoying, but treating it with heat, ice and OTC NSAIDS seemed to be working. Sunday night, I barely registered more than a small twingey reminder or two and I thought I had made it through the worst of it. 

Yesterday morning, I woke up feeling fine and had my shower as usual. I made it back upstairs and sat on the bed to put on my pants. I stood, like I always do, and was instantly struck with pain the likes of which I have never experienced. Honestly. I have had a nasal cauterization and several oral surgeries. I know pain. This was far worse than anything I've ever experienced and I quite literally screamed. If this is half the pain of childbirth, I wouldn't wish it on any woman ever, even my mother!. But it passed quickly and I gingerly made my way downstairs with every intention of going to the Day Job. Once down on ground level, it quickly became apparent that I was in serious trouble. And the idea of folding myself into a car and driving myself for help was patently absurd. 

So, for the fourth time this year, EMTs were called to my house though this time, it was my mother calling them for me. The entire morning was rather surreal and I joked with the EMT's* (who arrived very quickly) - "Well, I can cross this off my bucket list!" They politely laughed and as I was later lying almost flat on my back, dozing and waiting for the drugs the ER nurse had administered to take effect, I realized that an ambulance ride to the hospital should really be on everyone's 'Anti-Bucket List'

I posted a few more things on my Anti-Bucket List and asked my Facebook friends to list theirs. There were quite a few amusing answers and they got me thinking about other things I never need to experience before I die. So here they are:

Uncle P's Anti-Bucket List: (A Work in Progress; Subject to Change at Any Time without Notice)

Ride in an Ambulance
Handcuffed Ride in the Back of a Squad Car
Getting Stabbed in the Shower by a Maniac
Being Bitten By Zombies
Being Trampled in a Stampede
Being Trapped Aboard a Sinking Sealiner
Forced to Watch another High School Production of Grease
Forced to Eat Poutine.
Being Surrounded by Russian Skinheads
Get a Haircut so Bad It Makes Me Cry
Buy a Pair of Crocs
Drink PBR
Associate with Anyone Who Actually Drinks PBR
Give Myself Over to the Cult of The Boy Who Lived.
Wear a Utilikilt
Marry a Woman
Have Gallons of Baked Beans Poured All Over Me
Have Leeches Pulled from My Body (don't click, K!)
Be Struck by Lightning
Be Burned at the Stake
Be Forced to Watch Every Episode of Every 'Real Housewives' Show
Three Words: "Chilled Monkey Brains"

I have a few more, but I realized they are really rather depressing, so I thought it best to leave them out. Luckily, the ER was literally empty at 8:30 AM and I was seen and treated right away. The Attending ER doctor put his finger right on the spot and said "Oh! I can feel it spasm!"  I was given a 10mg Valium (Seriously? Did you not hear me give my height and weight?) and a gluteal injection of a muscle relaxer and two prescriptions, along with instructions to rest with continued heat and ice for three days. This is the end of Day 2 and while I think I feel better, I thought the same last night, as well.

So, are these the kinds of things other people think about while recovering at home, under heavy medication, after a frighteningly intense bout with pain? 

No... It seems right up there with my usual nonsense, if you ask me.

Now I am asking you: What's on your Anti-Bucket List? What thing(s) do you never need to do before you die? 

More, anon.

Prospero

*And no, neither of them were the cuties from last month, though both were pleasant, patient and professional. Everyone in the ER was equally so and what started out as a rather scary experience was quickly getting better. I'm sure it helped that I was the only one in the ER, which undoubtedly facilitated my treatment but it seemed to me this was how they probably handled every patient and I was very impressed.

Role Reversals

I've never really been upset by my own aging. While many of my opinions have changed over the years (well, a few) and my hair has gone mostly grey and silver and the bags under my eyes my have gotten a little bigger, I feel that for the most part, I am aging pretty well. 

No, the worst part of aging is watching our parents age...

Mom called me at the Day Job this morning (not an unusual thing) and left me a voice mail that said "Call me right away, please!" The tone of her message was not her usual. I called and after she picked up, there was some fumbling and then quiet. "Hello?" I said. "Mom?" Hello?" Then she said, "I think I'm going to call 911. I think I'm having a heart attack."

"Hang up and call them now! I'll be right there!" My boss had heard and simply said: "Go!"

I raced from work to find her already in the ambulance when I got there. She was having trouble breathing. Long time readers will remember our last ambulance trip to the hospital for an episode of diabetic shock, which ended up in a 5-night stay. This time it seems that congestive heart failure led to fluid retention resulting in respiratory distress. Mom was scared and upset and kept apologizing for upsetting me and disrupting my day. The E.R. nurses were terrific about getting her blankets, pillows and whatever else she needed. I went and got some lunch and made a few calls, then headed back to the hospital with her book, a hairbrush and some toiletries she requested.

She's spending at least one night in the ICU while they give her diuretics to get rid of the fluids. The ICU nurse (a very nice lady named Vivian) explained everything that was going on and assured me that she's going to be okay. I don't honestly expect her to be released until Sunday or Monday. She has yet to see her cardiologist (a 6'5" hottie who reminds me of Michael Crichton and whom she adores), though I expect I'll hear from him tomorrow. Everyone, from the EMTs to the attending physician, says she did the right thing by calling 911. And I must once again commend the members of the Levittown/Fairless Hills Rescue Squad and the staff at Lower Bucks Hospital who have all been wonderful.

I hate that I have to watch her deteriorate. This once strong-willed, speed-walking powerhouse of a woman is increasingly becoming a frail, little old lady and I hate it. Now I'm doubly worried about her upcoming shoulder-replacement surgery. Of course, this episode may have postponed that for a while...

Having seen my aunt care for my grandmother after her stroke, helped me prepare a bit for what was to come, but these ladies have some smart things to say for folks in my situation:

If you're parents are aging and/or ailing, I hear you. Don't ever be afraid to reach out. I'll listen and know what you're going through.

More, anon.
Prospero

In Praise of EMTs

Uncle P had himself quite a scare tonight. My mom has had her share of ups and downs with her health over the years, but over the last few days she hadn't been feeling well, suffering from dizziness, extreme weakness and a low-grade fever. Because she didn't feel well, she hadn't been eating much, no matter how many times I told her it was important for her to do so.

She called me at work today to tell me had fallen and had lain on the floor for over an hour before she could get up (she later admitted she may have blacked out). I wanted to call an ambulance then and there, but she told me "Don't you dare!" in her typical German/Scotch pig-headed way. She told me she was going to take a Vicodin for pain (a less-than successful knee replacement about 6 years ago has left her in chronic pain, which was exacerbated today by her efforts to get off the floor) and then lie down for a while.

When I checked in on her after work, I found her in bed, moaning and writhing, her pupils as big as saucers and not responding when I tried to talk to her. I immediately called 911 and asked for an ambulance, thinking she was either having a stroke or some kind of seizure. The 911 operator was a wonderful woman who stayed on the phone with me until the ambulance arrived, doing her best to keep me calm while advising me on what to do.

The EMTs arrived quickly (though it seemed to take forever, it was probably less than five minutes), took one look at her and asked "Is she a diabetic?" When I said "Yes," they did a quick blood test and found her blood sugar at a frighteningly low 26! They administered a massive amount of glucose and she quickly rallied, responding (finally) to the questions they asked her. They asked her her name, my name and the year, all of which she got right, though she stumbled a bit on her date of birth and my father's name. Then they asked what she eaten today. She said "A banana and some chocolate." Not eating + oral diabetes meds = damn scary low blood sugar. They told me I had gotten there just in time.

Of course, upon being told she was going to the hospital, she balked, but they told her she had no choice. She was still weak, and wasn't always making sense as they wheeled her into the ambulance. After a quick call to my sister, I raced to the hospital and filled out the forms, still rather flustered. When I did get in to see her, she was still suffering from some tremors and couldn't remember my answers to questions she had to ask more than once. She was admitted at least overnight, until they got her stabilized and I finally went home, exhausted and wound-up, though relieved that she was going to be okay.

She called me about an hour ago to tell what room she was in, and actually sounded like herself for the first time in several days. She's scheduled to have a consultation with an endocrinologist in the morning, and it looks like she's going to be fine. But I have to be honest and tell you that finding her like that was one of the scariest moments of my life.

While I rarely get this personal on Caliban's Revenge, I never got the chance to thank the EMTs who did such an excellent job and probably saved her life, so I thought the best way to thank them would be to do so publicly. The two members of the Levittown-Fairless Hills Rescue Squad were professional, expedient, polite and responsive while Uncle P was panicked and just a little more than upset.

Support your local Rescue and Fire squads, folks. They do wonderful and important work. You never know when you might need them (and I truly hope you never do) and they deserve your thanks and support. Mom is going to be alright, thanks to those two terrific EMTs. And even though I may have a hard time getting to sleep tonight (adrenaline will do that you), I will sleep a little bit better knowing there are folks out there ready to help when its needed.

And I want to thank you, dear readers, for putting up with this most personal ramble. Writing is always therapeutic for me, and putting this rather surreal experience into written words has helped me process the events and get them out of my system.

Back to more movies and nonsense (hopefully), anon.
Prospero