Warm And (Mostly) Horizontal

Tomorrow it will be two weeks since my last posting. Whatever happened to my application with the spa people I'll never know. No word at all. I wonder how many of those 82 guys are left now.

Friday the 11th, after shoveling/scraping the last of the crusty half inch of snow from the driveway and sidewalk, which never enjoy sunshine during the winter, I set out walking the mile and a half to the nearest midday bus stop. Just about the time I exited the arroyo path and hit the sidewalk along Ventura, I began noticing my left calf muscle feeling tight, as if I were getting a charlie horse in one of my favorite charlie horse localities. I did what I always do: I ignored it.

I cleaned the shop at Albuquerque Little Theatre. It had been a mess since the strike of The Legend Of Sleepy Hollow on Halloween. What with everything there was to do for White Christmas, cleaning the shop never made it to the top of the priorities list. So I made a special trip. Colby wasn't there. I guess he appreciated it- I still haven't heard from him.

By the time I got home my leg was throbbing. Carmen told me I should go to the doctor, that she believed I had a blood clot. I smiled that little smile that says "fuck off" but in a nice way. When I sat in the recliner, my leg felt just fine- swollen to about twice its size, but not painful.

Saturday morning, in pain, I sat at my computer, played a Scrabble word, and checked my email. Lo and behold, there was one from the first exhibit guy I talked to back in July. He knew a guy who desperately needed help with some exhibit work. I called the guy, threw some tools in the car and took off for Corralles. I was able to do some of the work sitting with my leg up. For the rest I was in serious pain. Sunday I dropped Carmen at church and went back for more. By the time I got home Sunday afternoon, the only time the pain wasn't making me nauseous was in my recliner. And the one inviolable rule of the recliner: if Dad's in it, kitties pile on!

Monday morning my plan was to take Carmen to work and head for Corralles again. I got up to feed the kitties and nearly passed out from the pain. Change of plan. She hauled me to the Emergency Room, where they heard my story and took me right in. They thought I probably had a blood clot. Within an hour, Carmen's diagnosis was confirmed (damn it!) and I was admitted to a hospital for the first time since 1977. In 1977 they weren't sure whether the passing-out pain in my lung was an infection or a blood clot. They often tested my legs for clots, but found none. Keeping that experience in mind, last Tuesday evening I began to suspect that what had started as a tiny twinge in my right lung might be a migratory clot. They CT scanned me. It is. Oh, and just to be absolutely clear, officially these are "unprovoked clots."

I won't go into the personalities and relative competencies of my healthcare professionals. Some I really liked, some I REALLY didn't. Some stayed on top of the job. One completely forgot a time-sensitive medication, which I happened to wake up and notice a half hour after the scheduled time.

My doctor was Dr. Pierce- not Benjamin Franklin Pierce, but a good doctor even so. He saw me twice a day while I was incarcerated and we got on well.

By Friday my anti-coagulants were sufficiently settled that they let me come home, dragging my little bottle of oxygen with me. Since then I have been a warm and (mostly) horizontal cat bed in the recliner. Today is the first day Carmen is letting me use her oldest of three laptop computers. No kitties allowed on the computer!