I have no clue what I was trying to convey here. The first page looks like H-G-N-E. I may have been trying to spell H-O-M-E. The next page is any one's guess but I'm sure it was important.
Just scribbles. It seems I was trying very hard though.
These are just a few of my attempts. I do remember being very upset at everyone for not understanding. I sincerely thought I was writing down exactly what I wanted them to understand.
These are just a few of my attempts. I do remember being very upset at everyone for not understanding. I sincerely thought I was writing down exactly what I wanted them to understand.
Randy drew this for me. I think I remember him doing it after I seemed to be making everyone frustrated. He thought I might be hurting and wanted me to point to where it hurt. I wasn't hurting though.
I couldn't tell you what I was trying to write on the left but I'm pretty sure the right side is clear:
'bout time.
You have to look close at this one but 'I live alone' is fairly obvious and I was most likely talking to a nurse or doctor.
This is funny - now. I do remember being very frustrated at the time. (Much later, I will ask Jeri if I had had a stroke and she will assure me that I did not.)
Other things that have come to mind while still at the Valley:
I am taken off the IV at some point and am allowed soft diet. Jell-o, applesauce, Sierra Mist, tea, coffee. Although I am thrilled, all food seems to have a very distinct odor to it. I don't know what or why but it is very difficult to eat when smelling this smell. To say it smells bad would make one think it was spoiled or gone over but it wasn't that kind of 'bad smell'. It was chemical or medicinal smelling. That's the best I can do to describe it.
At first though, Jell-o tastes so good as does the soft drink but after a day or so of trying to eat and get past the odor, I end up not eating very well. It makes everyone think I need something more to eat so I am permitted a slight step up from the soft diet. I eat it. I don't want to go back on the IV. It just smells awful to me.
Breathing:
I am on oxygen. The nasal cannula is bothersome and I am constantly pulling it out. Sometimes in my sleep but mostly when I'm awake.
I realize that the head of the bed is raised even while I sleep. I think it is to help me breath better but with (without) the oxygen, I'm doing pretty well. Being in the raised position does not allow me to curl up and sleep.
Flexibility:
Stretching has become a wonderful thing. When the bed is being made (with me still in it), and it is leveled out, I take advantage and stretch as much as I can. Even when they just straighten the bed or straighten me or giving me a bed bath, I try to stretch. It feels so good! It is as if I just learned how to do this amazing thing! I am in awe of how I feel when I do s-t-r-e-t-c-h.
As each day goes by, I become more and more uncomfortable. I want to get rid of the catheter. It is unpleasant and (as far as I'm concerned) doesn't do what it should. More often than not I feel the urge to 'go' and find myself holding back. When I do this it almost hurts when I do let go.
I don't consider the consequences of the catheter being removed however.
Oddity:
I want to explain the following properly but I'm not sure how to write it out. Concerning my room but simply put, every time I open my eyes I expect to see a wall lined with book shelves. Even as I write this today, I can still see that wall.
Most likely it was something I dreamed and it is all that I have left of that dream.
The View:
My room is very nice. It is the cardiac unit (I believe) and fairly good sized. My bed is close to the windows and most of what I see is the rest of the hospital, rather, the top of the hospital.
The window was the entire wall and the shade that covered it was see through. It was enough to keep the sun from blinding me but it also confused my vision. In my medicated haze, I was sure I was seeing something like a gargoyle but in reality more like a chimera. What it was, was satellite dishes! Funny what drugs can do to ones imagination.
The far wall, across from my bed was a couch. To the right of the couch was (I think) where my clothes were. I'm guessing this because I can see my cane. Just to the right of this area was where the nurses sat at the computer to update their records on me. To the right of that a long counter with cupboards over head. (All of this is where I thought the wall of bookshelves was)
To the right of that the entrance to my room.
To the right of that I'm not sure but my bathroom is on this wall and then we're back to my bed.
It is just a day or so after I 'wake up' that I am told that I will go through a step-down rehabilitation. One place first to see how I do then another place. The first place I will go to is called Kindred.
(It isn't until I am home do I realize that Kindred is where I would have gone if I could not wean off the ventilator. From there, most likely a nursing home.)
This is funny - now. I do remember being very frustrated at the time. (Much later, I will ask Jeri if I had had a stroke and she will assure me that I did not.)
Other things that have come to mind while still at the Valley:
I am taken off the IV at some point and am allowed soft diet. Jell-o, applesauce, Sierra Mist, tea, coffee. Although I am thrilled, all food seems to have a very distinct odor to it. I don't know what or why but it is very difficult to eat when smelling this smell. To say it smells bad would make one think it was spoiled or gone over but it wasn't that kind of 'bad smell'. It was chemical or medicinal smelling. That's the best I can do to describe it.
At first though, Jell-o tastes so good as does the soft drink but after a day or so of trying to eat and get past the odor, I end up not eating very well. It makes everyone think I need something more to eat so I am permitted a slight step up from the soft diet. I eat it. I don't want to go back on the IV. It just smells awful to me.
Breathing:
I am on oxygen. The nasal cannula is bothersome and I am constantly pulling it out. Sometimes in my sleep but mostly when I'm awake.
I realize that the head of the bed is raised even while I sleep. I think it is to help me breath better but with (without) the oxygen, I'm doing pretty well. Being in the raised position does not allow me to curl up and sleep.
Flexibility:
Stretching has become a wonderful thing. When the bed is being made (with me still in it), and it is leveled out, I take advantage and stretch as much as I can. Even when they just straighten the bed or straighten me or giving me a bed bath, I try to stretch. It feels so good! It is as if I just learned how to do this amazing thing! I am in awe of how I feel when I do s-t-r-e-t-c-h.
As each day goes by, I become more and more uncomfortable. I want to get rid of the catheter. It is unpleasant and (as far as I'm concerned) doesn't do what it should. More often than not I feel the urge to 'go' and find myself holding back. When I do this it almost hurts when I do let go.
I don't consider the consequences of the catheter being removed however.
Oddity:
I want to explain the following properly but I'm not sure how to write it out. Concerning my room but simply put, every time I open my eyes I expect to see a wall lined with book shelves. Even as I write this today, I can still see that wall.
Most likely it was something I dreamed and it is all that I have left of that dream.
The View:
My room is very nice. It is the cardiac unit (I believe) and fairly good sized. My bed is close to the windows and most of what I see is the rest of the hospital, rather, the top of the hospital.
The window was the entire wall and the shade that covered it was see through. It was enough to keep the sun from blinding me but it also confused my vision. In my medicated haze, I was sure I was seeing something like a gargoyle but in reality more like a chimera. What it was, was satellite dishes! Funny what drugs can do to ones imagination.
The far wall, across from my bed was a couch. To the right of the couch was (I think) where my clothes were. I'm guessing this because I can see my cane. Just to the right of this area was where the nurses sat at the computer to update their records on me. To the right of that a long counter with cupboards over head. (All of this is where I thought the wall of bookshelves was)
To the right of that the entrance to my room.
To the right of that I'm not sure but my bathroom is on this wall and then we're back to my bed.
It is just a day or so after I 'wake up' that I am told that I will go through a step-down rehabilitation. One place first to see how I do then another place. The first place I will go to is called Kindred.
(It isn't until I am home do I realize that Kindred is where I would have gone if I could not wean off the ventilator. From there, most likely a nursing home.)
