Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Falling for Sean

I’m definitely a philocalist. I'm also a wreck and it’s going to take days to recover.
My trip to Vancouver began excellently: I had a great breakfast with Bruce; it’s a nice new tradition that we start my visits to Vancouver together. Then I got my errands done — the pharmacy, chocolate shop, pet store — and got to Dr. Shoja with plenty of time to relax before my appointment.
For two years we’ve been talking about my life in the present. Yesterday we talked about coping strategies for my future and that’s what we’ll be doing for the remaining three appointments. Why? Because when I have a medical crisis, I can’t speak. And in particular, my asthma attacks are now complicated by my tendency to hyperventilate when I seize so Dr. Shoja is going to write to the ambulance service here.
After my appointment, I got to the seaplane terminal for my trip home in record time; I was in the plane at 2:30 (an hour earlier than usual) and on the dock on Gabriola at 2:50.
Then it happened.
I tripped on the dock and immediately went into a bad seizure — bouncing up and down on concrete! My head was bouncing like a ball. Buffy and (incredibly handsome and wonderful man and pilot) Sean took charge of me. I woke up with a roll of paper towel under my head and Sean holding me down. When I rolled over, my pants were all bloody and there was blood pooling on the dock; my wrists were throbbing with pain.
It was so odd looking for where the blood was coming from; it was my hand and my legs. Sean walked me to my car after I recovered and I sat there for a while with the seat reclined before I came home.
The good news is that I had forewarned Sean and Buffy about my condition so they took it all in stride and did not call 911.
My body ached everywhere from bouncing around on the concrete. It still does. I did not want to get into the hot tub because of my wounds yesterday but I might today. Twice, forgetting about where I was hurt, I knelt down to play with the animals and screamed like a banshee. One knee is ruined.
When I got dressed this morning I could see the bruising starting to show. Thank God I have nothing pressing to do today and no guests. I am going to chill with pie and the Olympics today because tomorrow I go back to Vancouver yet again, this time by car because I have to do a furniture exchange.
This is my fifth fall since last summer that has led to a bad seizure. Two of them led to 911 calls and (unnecessary) hospitalization. None of them happened at home; each incident increases my commitment to maintaining my self-imposed house arrest.
Last night, I wanted to talk to someone. I wanted to talk out my energy; I was shaking and hurting. I kept thinking about going down and the start of the seizure, my head banging hard on the concrete. I wanted arms around me.
I didn’t want to phone Dwight. I always turn to him and just can’t keep doing that. I called Bruce twice but he wasn’t home and neither was Paula or Steve. So I wrapped myself in a huge HBC blanket and got comfortable on the chaise and my sweetheart came to my aid. Hugging Sheba felt good; she’s nice a big now and so soft. Hugging her felt wonderful.
This morning I can type without discomfort. That’s a plus. And I can bend my knee so I’m optimistic I’ll recover quickly.
It’s always something.

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