To Dear TAM: I AM BACK

written as a response to TAM's comment on the last post -- although the last post's comment length entry limit cut it off... so i brought the whole thing here, though i hope not to embarrass TAM by doing so!


TAM -- je suis de retour!  i am back!  after a tour in CCU and then a so-called "step-down" unit, a meeting or two with a psych team (i thought i was bianca), and a stay on the regular cardiac floor, and now home with the flunky-padumpy hallelujah-chorus-wunnerful-wunnerful Baby Dearest (well, whadda ya want, "Mommy Dearest," [ewww] is on the telly!). i feel... a little clearer day by day by day, but can't get out of bed without the help of physical therapists; Poor Dear Darling Fred has Bedpan Duty, Feeding Duty... and seems to have adopted a new duty: Glaring, Slamming Things Duty.  Making Me Feel Horribly Guilty Guilty Duty.  he can't help it.  as i can't help it. as only i can apologize.  anyway... it has been 3 days since i got home.  one day since i was able to get the computer -- late last night... and only late late last night was i able to hook up the laptop to the power cord after the battery ran out.  it took three hours to get through saving the debt collectors, i had missed so many payment deadlines since my bank account was hacked just prior to Fred having me hauled off in the Tête de Hergé night!  of course, i had cancelled all automatic payments, not knowing Fred was going to have me hauled off in the Tête de Hergé night.  then we discovered they would not believe Fred was the true Fred, despite the true Fred knowing the true Moi's Secret Answers to the true Moi's Secret Questions!  Quelle Horreur!  unfortunately and malheureusement, today has been spent, in its entirety: using every bit of my powers of abstinence to keep from ringing Poor Sweet Dear Darling Fred to come and give me a bedpan, to then [pan emptied, gloves off, hands washed!] make a quick sandwich, as the meds of 6 hours ago and the ones i'm about to take are/and will eat through my stomach, as they added some caustic ones in the last cardiac heasepital;  this early afternoon's Poor Sweet Dear Darling Fred proved sweet as can be and we accomplished bedpan and breakfast as if the two went together naturally;  then i managed the Grand Scoot Up In The Bed, always a PhysEd exercise for Moi, involving this crushed left hip and super athletic CRPS right leg, watched curiously by 2 of 3 felines with désapprobation; then, with my blue grabber i promptly knocked over my raspberry-flavored carbonated can of water, which i promptly rescued, half-emptied, with my blue grabber from the floor, risking falling from the bed, which barely beat, by Moi's calculations, the wrath of Poor Sweet Dear Darling Fred -- very, very wrong though i was, still delusional though i must have been to pick up on the expectations of the hearsepital stalinesque nurse-hitlers [who could not understand my reticence to turn on that left hip or have my leg and foot pulses checked with their heavy Man Hands}; then the previously mentioned caustic morning meds hit their full stride and Moi had to rest, plus there was that tingling up and down my left arm, the heaviness in my left jaw and in my left non-existent shoulder, signaling a jaw and shoulder lacklusterhood [moi-swearing to Godly non-existent heart event]; and everything dissolving in the confusion of Fred's good natured return!  enough time had passed that i no longer needed to watch/listen for the phone, tucked neatly in my scrub top, for the Occupational Therapist or the Home Health Aide who were supposed to come today, if today was indeed Friday.  "office hours" are , at least over, and the PT and aide are "dispensed" by the "office." it's nuts.the rest of the day has been spent... currying Local Favors, iffen youse getten mines driftens.  anyway, i am also working on an- oh-so-clever **WELCOME BACK, GUESS WHERE MOI HAS BEEN!** post for the less dear than thou, dear TAM, to be posted ASAP, depending on when and how dinner and the next two rounds of caustic hearspital meds go, as well as precious, beloved time spent with the *undeservedly* maligned Fred.  the post is mrant to be clever and funny, not things i should probably attempt, ever, or, at least, right now, while still hearsepital-paranoid. i musta been psychic, posting this photo of dobby serving as angel to sammy.  wish i had not.  it still makes me cry.  but it still makes me love on dobby and smill up at sammy that much more.  there never was such a kisser and never will be.



© 2015 L. Ryan