I remember taking breaths and feeling no sweet relief. Like all the oxygen had been pulled out of the room and no matter how much my lungs expanded and contacted I couldn't seem to ease the hunger in my chest. I remember the world spinning and going dark. I remember being in the back of the ambulance and wishing I was dead because it hurt so much to try and breath. I remember the feeling of my body betraying me.
I remember that, and I think about that a lot right now.
Thursday, April 16, 2020
Tuesday, March 31, 2020
The Magic Happens
He only makes good things happen.
My familiar is 10 lbs of blonde amazing.
It is wrong for me to claim the magic,
he does it all I think.
I am so grateful.
Now a previously started
moody refrain.
It is not true now.
My mind is free,
more
or less.
My life is like,
the lights are on, but nobodies home,
except someone is home,
and all the curtains are drawn
and they hope that no one calls,
or knocks.
Monday, June 19, 2017
Today
I drop off my father and drive home. It's a Monday night, so both my parents are off doing empty nester parent things, even though both their children still live at home. As soon as I come in I leash up the dogs to go out for a short walk. They are all three of them assholes, just to varying degrees. They all crap in the yard. I take the opportunity to wheel in the freshly emptied garbage can and desecrate it with a bag of old and new dog shit. I feel a little badly about this.
After that I practice pipes for about fifteen minutes before it reaches the altogether too late hour of 8pm. It's hard, and I feel winded rather quickly, but I do it anyway, because I'm terrible and I need to get better. I am monitoring a pain in my left lung. I'm trying to decide if it's my heart, my lung or my liver. None of those sound particularly good, but I will wait and see if anything about the pain changes, or if I am just fat as my doctor keeps insisting. I understand that I am fat and for that reason my "doctor" can go straight to Hell. I know what fat feels like, I'm actually pretty good at it after all this time. When I am winded and between sets I wheel in the recycling bin that is still sitting lonely on the side of the driveway. I thought that maybe they had yet to come for them, but all the neighbors have retrieved theirs and I feel foolish being the only one who has not.
After I have worn myself out and the various pains and mystery throbbing had beaten me down I come inside. I plug in my phone an listen to an audio book. I find that I really enjoy audio books, possibly because I am too lazy to get into reading, or perhaps I find having to devote all my energy to focusing on a book too trying. I wash dishes while listening to a Terry Pratchett novel read in a lovely English accent. I have decided that if I am ever to release an autobiography that is successful enough to merit an audiobook edition, I would like it to be read by a proper sounding English gentleman. This is not only because I would find it hilarious that the inner monologue of a vain teenage girl should be an old English fellow, much like Patrick Stewart being the inner voice of Susie Swanson on Family Guy, but also I think it best reflect the actual rhythm of my patterns of thought. I don't know though, it might just be me.
By this time I have started to cook something for dinner for my slightly older brother, which means all the dishes I have just washed are now dirty again. This speaks to the Buddhist practice of performing mundane tasks that have no end just for the doing of them, or if you would prefer, as I often do, the Sisyphus effect. I usually choose to remove myself from the cycle right about this time. After placing the tatertot casserole into the oven I am finally able to take moment to sit down. Which is when I receive a text from my father whom I was suppose to be picking up about five minutes ago. So after telling my brother to check on his own damn food in not so many words I jump in the car, speed only slightly to pick up my father and bring him home where he promptly goes upstairs and goes to bed.
It is about this point that I ease into a chair, finally able to relax and begin to type. Which brings us to now.
All of this is to say my period, after nearly three continuous months, appears to be over.
After that I practice pipes for about fifteen minutes before it reaches the altogether too late hour of 8pm. It's hard, and I feel winded rather quickly, but I do it anyway, because I'm terrible and I need to get better. I am monitoring a pain in my left lung. I'm trying to decide if it's my heart, my lung or my liver. None of those sound particularly good, but I will wait and see if anything about the pain changes, or if I am just fat as my doctor keeps insisting. I understand that I am fat and for that reason my "doctor" can go straight to Hell. I know what fat feels like, I'm actually pretty good at it after all this time. When I am winded and between sets I wheel in the recycling bin that is still sitting lonely on the side of the driveway. I thought that maybe they had yet to come for them, but all the neighbors have retrieved theirs and I feel foolish being the only one who has not.
After I have worn myself out and the various pains and mystery throbbing had beaten me down I come inside. I plug in my phone an listen to an audio book. I find that I really enjoy audio books, possibly because I am too lazy to get into reading, or perhaps I find having to devote all my energy to focusing on a book too trying. I wash dishes while listening to a Terry Pratchett novel read in a lovely English accent. I have decided that if I am ever to release an autobiography that is successful enough to merit an audiobook edition, I would like it to be read by a proper sounding English gentleman. This is not only because I would find it hilarious that the inner monologue of a vain teenage girl should be an old English fellow, much like Patrick Stewart being the inner voice of Susie Swanson on Family Guy, but also I think it best reflect the actual rhythm of my patterns of thought. I don't know though, it might just be me.
By this time I have started to cook something for dinner for my slightly older brother, which means all the dishes I have just washed are now dirty again. This speaks to the Buddhist practice of performing mundane tasks that have no end just for the doing of them, or if you would prefer, as I often do, the Sisyphus effect. I usually choose to remove myself from the cycle right about this time. After placing the tatertot casserole into the oven I am finally able to take moment to sit down. Which is when I receive a text from my father whom I was suppose to be picking up about five minutes ago. So after telling my brother to check on his own damn food in not so many words I jump in the car, speed only slightly to pick up my father and bring him home where he promptly goes upstairs and goes to bed.
It is about this point that I ease into a chair, finally able to relax and begin to type. Which brings us to now.
All of this is to say my period, after nearly three continuous months, appears to be over.
Sunday, April 2, 2017
Stillness
I have been thinking on stillness of late. We don't seem to appreciate it. At practice today I came to the realization that stillness in music is where you really appreciate the music. It's what make the note, played one by one, a piece to move the soul. A split second on a single tone to make the music speak. Some people say that the music is in the silence, the places where the notes drop out all together. The places where the anticipation is greatest and create the most dramatic affect. That is untrue. The music is where every note sits and is appreciated next to the following. They work best together, appreciated individually in their own time. No matter how fast, or short, or fleeting, every note has value. Beautiful, meaningful value.
I am afraid often. Is the pain in my chest like that other pain? Is my bleeding normal or extreme? What did I do before that made it happen? Am I doing it again?
I have decided that Death is following me around, waiting for me to slip up again. I failed in someway that he wasn't ready for before, and now he's waiting for me to make that same mistake again. He's looking for me to be in that same place again. I don't want to be in that place again, but I have a tendency to wander in ways that I don't expect. I am easily lost.
I try to think back to what I saw when I was somewhere else, and trying to remember what it was I saw there. Someone spoke to me. Someone spoke to me in kind and familiar tones. He wasn't scared. It was loud there and bright, and when I was back here, for a moment it was still.
I am afraid often. Is the pain in my chest like that other pain? Is my bleeding normal or extreme? What did I do before that made it happen? Am I doing it again?
I have decided that Death is following me around, waiting for me to slip up again. I failed in someway that he wasn't ready for before, and now he's waiting for me to make that same mistake again. He's looking for me to be in that same place again. I don't want to be in that place again, but I have a tendency to wander in ways that I don't expect. I am easily lost.
I try to think back to what I saw when I was somewhere else, and trying to remember what it was I saw there. Someone spoke to me. Someone spoke to me in kind and familiar tones. He wasn't scared. It was loud there and bright, and when I was back here, for a moment it was still.
Monday, October 10, 2016
How Did You Know?
How did I know I was having a pulmonary embolism? Well, it wasn't like I was feeling under the weather and decided to take a stroll on over to the ER just to check it out. I couldn't breath. Someone had shut off the air. My left lung had dropped off line. There was no debate. There was no, "maybe we should wait and see," or "Are you sure you need to go to the hospital?" It was more, "try to get her to the car before she passes out again," and "We can't wait for an ambulance."
I find it odd that people think I would go to the hospital without it being absolutely necessary.
I knew I was having a pulmonary embolism because I couldn't breath. I knew I was having a pulmonary embolism because my heart was on the edge of failing because I had lost all function in my left lung and it was struggling to keep me oxygenated. I knew because I was turning blue. I knew because I kept passing out and waking up on the ground in a new place. I knew because I was dying.
I don't know how people can smoke. After loosing that much lung function I would pay $6 a pack to never feel that way again. What is wrong with air that you would want to deny yourself any?
I went up the stairs to go to bed, I've done it a thousand times before. I reached the top of the stair and immediately got dizzy. I stumbled to bed with the thought in my head that I would lay down and catch my breath. I startled awake when I couldn't breath, face down on the bed, not sure when I laid down. I was not ok, I needed help. I got out of bed. The light was still end, I hadn't changed for bed, I was not alright. There was no air. I tried to go for the door and the world shut off again. I remember seeing the floor come up under me before it went dark again. Dreams, unrecognizable dreams. Loud dreams. Awake again. Maybe? Yes, awake again. Less air. Struggle out of sweatshirt. Shout help, no reply, shout more. Watch dad walk by, shout for help, he doesn't react. Kick the wall. He can't hear me. Am I awake? Pull towards the stairs. Sit up, no air.
Help me, help me, help me.
Mom looks up the stairs at me and grows pale. She hurries up. Help me, Help me. She screams for my father. He doesn't wake easily. I slide step by step down the stairs. I can't breath. I don't know what's wrong. I lay on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. Someone helps me with my shoes. My chest hurts now. My breath is fast and labored. I can't slow my heart. I can't slow my breath. They lift me up and we struggle towards the car.
Loud dreams. Flashes of colors. I wake up on the ground. I see my fathers face looking down at me. He is high above me. The sky is purple behind him. My mom is getting ready to call an ambulance. The phone is in her hand. I try to reassure them. I don't remember being scared. I am lifted off the ground and we make it to the car. We speed to the hospital. I remember being concerned about how reckless my father's driving seemed. But I understood he was scared. I was dying. I knew that.
We drove past the emergency entrance twice. They started yelling at each other. This isn't the time. Mom runs in for a wheel chair. They wheel me in and everyone looks concerned. I can't breath. There is no air. There is no stopping, there was no check in, I was wheeled straight in. I thought that was odd, but I wasn't going to argue. I couldn't even if I wanted to. I am put on a stretcher. The doctor asks me questions. My health, my allergies, when, where, how? Mask over my face. Still so hard to breath. CT scan. Don't breath. Sit up. Ambulance. Richard and Andy in the back. We're rolling. Jeez Andy. Mask won't stay on. The ambulance goes fast. Watch things disappear in the flashing lights. Highway ramp was closed, I knew that. We have to go around. Ambulance is flying. Overdose rolling in at the same time. We aren't waiting.
Roll into the ER. Ambulance waits with me. I have their crash gear attached to me. Can't stop my heart from racing, breathing is still labored. I am covered in people doing a number of things. IV's going in, vitals being felt up, reassurances given. Concerned looks all over. Heart rate is up, blood pressure up, oxygenation low. Bad situation. It calms. The people leave. I vomit... EVERYWHERE. Start to feel better. Oxygenation starts to improve. Blood pressure normalizes. Heart rate still high.
Wheeled to IR. Have intravenous catheters put in to attack the clot in my lungs. I am awake through the procedure, more or less. They let me sleep if I can. I must hold my breath when asked. I am uncomfortable, and am wrapped like a mummy. I am sent to ICU to recoup. Allison takes care of me. Then Jennifer. Then Allison. Then Jennifer. They are so good to me. Catheters out. Stable. Can finally sit up. Feeling normal. Taken to Telemetry. Unpleasant room mate. She's scared and angry. No one listens to her concerns. No one understands. I sleep. I wake. I am recovered much faster than I thought. I am sent home.
I'm luck to be alive. I am lucky to be alive. I am so lucky to be alive.
I find it odd that people think I would go to the hospital without it being absolutely necessary.
I knew I was having a pulmonary embolism because I couldn't breath. I knew I was having a pulmonary embolism because my heart was on the edge of failing because I had lost all function in my left lung and it was struggling to keep me oxygenated. I knew because I was turning blue. I knew because I kept passing out and waking up on the ground in a new place. I knew because I was dying.
I don't know how people can smoke. After loosing that much lung function I would pay $6 a pack to never feel that way again. What is wrong with air that you would want to deny yourself any?
I went up the stairs to go to bed, I've done it a thousand times before. I reached the top of the stair and immediately got dizzy. I stumbled to bed with the thought in my head that I would lay down and catch my breath. I startled awake when I couldn't breath, face down on the bed, not sure when I laid down. I was not ok, I needed help. I got out of bed. The light was still end, I hadn't changed for bed, I was not alright. There was no air. I tried to go for the door and the world shut off again. I remember seeing the floor come up under me before it went dark again. Dreams, unrecognizable dreams. Loud dreams. Awake again. Maybe? Yes, awake again. Less air. Struggle out of sweatshirt. Shout help, no reply, shout more. Watch dad walk by, shout for help, he doesn't react. Kick the wall. He can't hear me. Am I awake? Pull towards the stairs. Sit up, no air.
Help me, help me, help me.
Mom looks up the stairs at me and grows pale. She hurries up. Help me, Help me. She screams for my father. He doesn't wake easily. I slide step by step down the stairs. I can't breath. I don't know what's wrong. I lay on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. Someone helps me with my shoes. My chest hurts now. My breath is fast and labored. I can't slow my heart. I can't slow my breath. They lift me up and we struggle towards the car.
Loud dreams. Flashes of colors. I wake up on the ground. I see my fathers face looking down at me. He is high above me. The sky is purple behind him. My mom is getting ready to call an ambulance. The phone is in her hand. I try to reassure them. I don't remember being scared. I am lifted off the ground and we make it to the car. We speed to the hospital. I remember being concerned about how reckless my father's driving seemed. But I understood he was scared. I was dying. I knew that.
We drove past the emergency entrance twice. They started yelling at each other. This isn't the time. Mom runs in for a wheel chair. They wheel me in and everyone looks concerned. I can't breath. There is no air. There is no stopping, there was no check in, I was wheeled straight in. I thought that was odd, but I wasn't going to argue. I couldn't even if I wanted to. I am put on a stretcher. The doctor asks me questions. My health, my allergies, when, where, how? Mask over my face. Still so hard to breath. CT scan. Don't breath. Sit up. Ambulance. Richard and Andy in the back. We're rolling. Jeez Andy. Mask won't stay on. The ambulance goes fast. Watch things disappear in the flashing lights. Highway ramp was closed, I knew that. We have to go around. Ambulance is flying. Overdose rolling in at the same time. We aren't waiting.
Roll into the ER. Ambulance waits with me. I have their crash gear attached to me. Can't stop my heart from racing, breathing is still labored. I am covered in people doing a number of things. IV's going in, vitals being felt up, reassurances given. Concerned looks all over. Heart rate is up, blood pressure up, oxygenation low. Bad situation. It calms. The people leave. I vomit... EVERYWHERE. Start to feel better. Oxygenation starts to improve. Blood pressure normalizes. Heart rate still high.
Wheeled to IR. Have intravenous catheters put in to attack the clot in my lungs. I am awake through the procedure, more or less. They let me sleep if I can. I must hold my breath when asked. I am uncomfortable, and am wrapped like a mummy. I am sent to ICU to recoup. Allison takes care of me. Then Jennifer. Then Allison. Then Jennifer. They are so good to me. Catheters out. Stable. Can finally sit up. Feeling normal. Taken to Telemetry. Unpleasant room mate. She's scared and angry. No one listens to her concerns. No one understands. I sleep. I wake. I am recovered much faster than I thought. I am sent home.
I'm luck to be alive. I am lucky to be alive. I am so lucky to be alive.
Monday, May 30, 2016
Disney's Animal Kingdom
Got to see a lot of animals on the safari, didn't get a picture of the giraffe that came right up to the truck unfortunately.
 |
| Simba! |
I'm a bat person, I loved the giant flying foxes.
The tiger was going crazy. up the hill, own the hill, over, around. All over.
Why do people throw their hair ties at the top of the Everest Exhibition? The top just before you start rolling back was just covered in hair ties. Didn't realize that was a thing, even with all the research I did.
We had a good time, met characters, tried African food, rode the rides, saw the shows, walked 10 miles, lots of fun.
Saturday, April 9, 2016
I Make Too Much Money
I have been planning a vacation to Disney World.
This has effectively been like taking my pay check each month and using it as a torch to light my way through the planning process.
But still I'm excited. The Mouse has a most indescribable allure, even to the even keeled such as myself. The magic of visiting the most magical place on earth has begun to fill my mind like a thick miasma, sending me into dreamy fits of passion nearly daily.
Almost needless to say, my family hates me. Every time that I try to speak, since there is a 80:20 chance that my next few words are going to be describing my trip planning, they scream out "LALALALALALALA" as they clap their hands over their ears and shake violently. I may be homeless any day now.
But at this point I've pretty much exhausted my research capabilities. You can only read the same five "Insider Tips" so many time before you realize you know more about Disney than most bloggers and you haven't even been there.
My top five free gifts/activities to look forward to,
1. Wilderness Explorer Guide- Animal Kingdom
Yes, I'm and adult. I'm still going to Wilderness Explorer the crap out of Animal Kingdom.
2. Sorcerers of The Magic Kingdom
No one is ever too old to fictitiously beat the crap out of some Disney villains.
3. Pirate Band in Adventureland
Pirate was my second career choice, you now if the whole 'I'm and Engineer' thing didn't work out.
4. Agent/Spy Adventure in Epcot
It's the freaking World Showcase, what else are you going to do?
5. Oh yeah, get one of those celebrate buttons
Because nothing gets you treated better by a bunch of stranger than advertising that you've earned the right to be here by volition of living another year.
So, eventually I will stop mentally packing my bags and actually pack my bags and my family might stop tuning me out whenever I speak. We'll see.
This has effectively been like taking my pay check each month and using it as a torch to light my way through the planning process.
But still I'm excited. The Mouse has a most indescribable allure, even to the even keeled such as myself. The magic of visiting the most magical place on earth has begun to fill my mind like a thick miasma, sending me into dreamy fits of passion nearly daily.
Almost needless to say, my family hates me. Every time that I try to speak, since there is a 80:20 chance that my next few words are going to be describing my trip planning, they scream out "LALALALALALALA" as they clap their hands over their ears and shake violently. I may be homeless any day now.
But at this point I've pretty much exhausted my research capabilities. You can only read the same five "Insider Tips" so many time before you realize you know more about Disney than most bloggers and you haven't even been there.
My top five free gifts/activities to look forward to,
1. Wilderness Explorer Guide- Animal Kingdom
Yes, I'm and adult. I'm still going to Wilderness Explorer the crap out of Animal Kingdom.
2. Sorcerers of The Magic Kingdom
No one is ever too old to fictitiously beat the crap out of some Disney villains.
3. Pirate Band in Adventureland
Pirate was my second career choice, you now if the whole 'I'm and Engineer' thing didn't work out.
4. Agent/Spy Adventure in Epcot
It's the freaking World Showcase, what else are you going to do?
5. Oh yeah, get one of those celebrate buttons
Because nothing gets you treated better by a bunch of stranger than advertising that you've earned the right to be here by volition of living another year.
So, eventually I will stop mentally packing my bags and actually pack my bags and my family might stop tuning me out whenever I speak. We'll see.
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