Well … my free hamper from the Welcome Wagon for the Elderly arrived. I now have a device for taking my blood pressure and pulse, and a breathing tool to help ensure that my lungs stay healthy. The lung thing is quite remarkable; it looks like a toy but is a hum dinger of a tool for encouraging me to take deep breaths. And stool softener and antacid tablets—all souvenirs from my visit to the hospital and their outpatient services.
I couldn’t shake the worry, so I took Sheba to the vet. She’s now on different antibiotics for five days and if, by Tuesday, her swelling is not gone, she’s having minor surgery on her foot. The vet thinks that there’s a foreign object embedded in her foot—likely Spear Grass. It’s a nasty weed that really victimizes local pets. As I was going in, a man with beautiful eyes was picking up his Pekinese, who had one grotesquely swollen eye, also a victim of spear grass.
I sat in bed with her all morning yesterday, and read, to keep her company—and to actively comfort her and ensure that she didn’t remove her sock and do more damage to her foot. It hurts to see her limping; I ache for her pain. But now we have a remedial action plan in place that gives me relief and confidence.
Morning Bulletin: I’m starting to doubt the embedded foreign object theory because, when I went to check on her this morning, I found she’s started feasting on her other front paw. It tells me there’s something emotional going on, not Spear Grass. But that’s just my gut feeling. I am going to tell the vet today.
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It’s like they say on TV: Once a killer, always a killer.
I’m processing something the locum at our clinic said to me yesterday. One question on my list for her was this: What was that ‘code blue’ thing that happened to me? I told her the state I was in in the same way I’ve written here and told to everyone I know. I wanted to know what happened. I wanted a name it for friends who wanted to know what happened to me. She said it was a giant psychogenic seizure. She said it was an emotional overreaction to the shock of my experience and diagnosis.
I hear: I’m getting crazier and crazier, weirder and weirder.
But I wonder, is this true?
Could be true; on the other hand, it could be a biased diagnosis. They cause me emotional distress in a medical, pathological, environment. I’ve felt disenfranchised or ghettoized as a person with a neurological disorder.
Regardless, I have a more complex mental diagnosis in my medical record now.
Regardless, I have been told that my little seizures can become a monster that can get my blood pressure to 246 and paralyze me.
Am I in a movie?
I lived with a mother that had my father beat me. I hated Dad by mistake. Mother couldn’t walk without assistance. She was the dying swan. I wasn’t terribly keen on her, either. And everything that happened all seemed to make me feel guilty. And then I saw, To Kill a Mocking Bird. Oh my God, I loved that movie.
Boo Radly is the crazy man who lives down the street from Atticus, where Scout is staying. Boo is a subplot of the story about a trial. A fabulous story that’s forever been inside me. Scout is the one character who knows there is a person inside Boo. She leaves him gifts as others mock Boo for his difference. Later in the story, Scout is attacked, and Boo saves her.
I identified with Boo. I felt different and unwanted. I loved it when he became the hero. Seriously, it really got to me. I had no self-esteem at all, and it gave me hope. Now I feel like I have become Boo. I live in the shadow of my symptoms.
I thought my code blue was due to my heart. The high BP reinforced my belief. Now they say its psychogenic, and that means it could happen again.
Unhappy camper.
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Jane and Dana are coming to visit today. We’re going to have lunch on my deck, and then Merrill, Leo and Issa and coming over with dinner for us on my deck! What a dynamic day in Pinecone Park.
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| This is the kind of gate I want for the friendship gate going between my yard and Leo's and Merrill' place next door. |
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