All Over Again

I had the fortune or misfortune to sit within range of a luncheon meeting probably arranged by a dating service, in Arlington Center today.

The late 30s something woman was there alone, shortly joined by a late 40s man apologizing for being late.

It was interesting to see how these meetings proceed. What are the formalities? What information is passed first? Professional credentials, it seems are early in the order of business. I learned that she was working on a MS in Nursing, Pediatrics, at MGH. He was working teaching music to children, ostensibly, but claimed that the parents needed the most work. Music therapy, it turned out. He said he hadn’t had a job that paid benefits for two years. He was also getting a Ph. D. from an obscure mail order College in Florida. Only the Thesis left to be accepted.

Next came places they had lived, he on the south shore of Massachusetts, she in New York State. Some where in there she mentioned a sister who was having twins. “Bait”, I thought. He didn’t pick up on it but shifted to currant living arrangements. Turns out he had lived in cooperative housing for a long time. That was when my ears seriously perked up. His first house ruptured after two of the residents decided to get pregnant, with out consulting the others. After the initial feelings of being ignored were processed some of the original members decided they were willing to live with a child and some not. He went with the child accepting group and he and another resident bought a house in Dorchester. The mother-to-be didn’t want to be on the Deed because she was a tax resistor and was afraid the IRS would go after the house. He alluded to ways she manages to hide her money. Actually they have done it again. They are having a second child, again, with out consulting the other residents. He is also a tax resister and was fined $500.00 last year for filing a “frivolous” tax return, even though he had sent a letter with the return explaining his stand.

I had a short image of the IRS bureaucrat opening the return with the letter prominently fixed to the form.

From there he launched into the currant political scene in Massachusetts. He is Green but must re-register as a Democrat so that he can have some impact in the primary. He has “issues” with Duval Patrick and thinks Riley isn’t “too bad”, which surprised me.

I could have been listening to the conversation in the early 70’s. I didn’t know these folks were still around. Oppositional Personality Disorder, I thought. I hope he is independently wealthy. Does he plan to receive Social Security? Medicare?

I paid my bill and left

Last Winter

It is cold as ‘Billy be Dammed’ here today, Eighteen degrees and a good stiff wind. I was checking my front door for leaks and managed to lock myself out. I was in my slippers and there is a glaze on all the snow, everything frozen up tight and very slippery. I had a key hidden in a ceramic elephant in the back yard. The gate was frozen shut so I had to climb over the picket fence, a tricky maneuver. I had my plastic snow shovel and proceeded to try to chip the elephant out of the snow, it turned out to be ice. No luck getting it free to access the key. Luckily it was warmer in the sun in the back yard and I had on my long underwear. I thought of the metal garden tools hanging in a bag by the front door. I climbed back over the picket fence, ouch ouch ouch, and went for a pair of pruners when I spotted a rock I had brought back from Long Island as a memento. I picked up the rock, climbed back over the fence, ouch ouch ouch, and smashed the elephant with the rock. There was the key. My glasses fell off and both lenses fell out on the snow. Luckily I saw them, put the lenses in one pocket and the frames in another. I left the rock with the pieces of the former elephant, took the key. By this time my hands were very cold, climbed over the fence, ouch ouch, I'm getting better at it, went to the front door. I had a hard time getting the key in the lock. My hands weren't working too well and as it opened I was greeted by a blast of warm air. I dropped the spare key in the bag with the garden tools. Enough of this clever hiding places caper. Enough adventures for one day.

Hospitalized

I was relieved to be admitted. I was beginning to doubt my ability to care for myself at home. The downward trajectory of my health had been very gradual. At aged 74 I thought it was “old age”. Morning naps, afternoon naps that evolved to most of the day in bed sleeping.

The chills and fever started after six to eight weeks into my decline. My fever would go up about 11:30 am and break about 4:00 am. Not high fevers, 100.2 rising to 101.4 by the end of the week.

I saw my nurse practitioner on Thursday. She called on Friday asking me to go in for a chest x-ray. Then she left another message asking me to get “Blood Cultures” at Urgent Care. I didn’t get the blood culture message until I returned home. I was too tired and it was too late to return to the Infirmary. I checked with my Doctor son and we thought I could wait until Monday.

By Sunday afternoon I was feeling sick enough to call my son and ask him to take me to the Emergency Room.

When we arrived it became apparent that we were in for a long wait. I told him to go home and I would let him know whether to pick me up or bring my suitcase back.

It was about 2:00 pm.
“ You won’t get to your bed until 11:00 pm.” He said.
“ That’s OK. I don’t have anything else to do.”

I was placed in a cubical and a Nurse started by doing my vital signs. An ER Doctor interviewed me. Blood was drawn and I was told I was being admitted. I was told my lungs were clear but that I had a low platelet count and that they were doing blood cultures.

I was placed in a room with two other women, both in their 90’s. I looked at them, one non-responsive and the other diagnosed with Lung Cancer.

“I don’t want to end up like this.”

I was having blood drawn 4-6 times a day and being wheeled on a gurney to the basement for Ultra-sounds, X-ray, a CAT scan, with contrast.

The hospital is a teaching hospital so I had a team of Doctors, an Intern, an “Attending” then the two specialists, from Hematology and Infectious Diseases.

The Hematologist mentioned drawing a “bone marrow” referring to my history of Breast Cancer, Chemo therapy and radiation. The ID guy wanted to know if I had been any place that had endemic Malaria.

By this time my son Caleb, a doctor at Beth Israel Hospital was consulting with my Doctors and telling me what was going on.

I had an enlarged spleen, very low platelets and the blood smears showed a parasite in my red blood cells. The Infectious Disease Doctor Tully started me on two antibiotics. I began to feel better the next day. My fever was gone. I could get a deep breath. One complaint I had had for more than a month was the feeling that I couldn’t get a “full” breath.
I thought I would be going home soon and asked to be transferred to the infirmary at MIT, my choice for any recovery.

My Intern, Dr. Cox, appeared and said they were transferring me to “Telemetry”. It seems my Atrial Fibrillation was not well controlled and Caleb told me I had some “inverted T waves” and they were afraid I was having a heart attack. They wanted to monitor me and do “six sets of Cardiac Enzymes”. My poor left arm looked like a war zone from all the times I had been “stuck”. My right arm was off limits because of some edema in my right hand, a result of surgery for breast CA.

I was packed up. Put in a wheelchair and taken down to the 4th floor. Dr. Cox said he had tried to get me on the 3d floor but there were no beds. I was wheeled into a room with one empty bed, the other two were occupied by Alzheimer’s patients. One was quiet and docile sitting in her chair. The other was being watched by a woman, hired for the purpose, who had the TV over my bed going full blast and talking to another “Watcher” from across the hall, whose patient was down stairs for tests.

It was as though I had landed in a mad house. The patient across from me kept saying loudly, “Why am I here? What’s wrong with me.” She had pulled her IV out at least twice and so had to be watched.” She didn’t get much attention from her caretaker until her son and husband arrived.

She turned her attention to them. “You just want to get rid of me. You have a girlfriend and just wanted me out of the house. What’s wrong with me? Why am I here?”

I wanted to shout, “You have Alzheimer’s!”

My Doctor son, Caleb came in and Dr. Cox came down to talk with him.

“ Get me out of here. This is a nightmare.” I said.
“ We’ll see what we can do. This is the time people go home.”

Within 10 minutes a nurse appeared and said, “We’re moving you. It is a private room with a view of the Charles River.”

I felt there had been an intercession by God. She had reached down and saved me.

It was decided that I had contracted Babesia a tick born parasite related to Malaria. My Cardiac enzymes were negative. My Cardiologist adjusted my medications and my heart rate slowed down. I had been in the hospital for a week and in the MIT Infirmary for three days.

This was my first experience with my own mortality, very frightening and humbling. I was stunned with how suddenly you can go from feeling competent and strong to thinking about Assisted Living.

I have made my peace with my primary job, taking care of myself. I’m feeling stronger every day. I am in touch with my Gratitude.