“#number 007” kayti sweetland rasmussen
Wouldn’t you know it? I thought the leg surgery last year was the cat’s meow, and would enable me to reengage in all sorts of former activities. Though it was apparently successful, things gradually went wrong during the year and it seemed we were back to square one.
It’s amazing the things the medical profession keeps learning. They soon discovered that the new vein wasn’t as good as they thought and was blocked again in a different place.
I went in for a procedure last week for angioplasty where they were able to open it once more. They don’t call these things “surgery” anymore” as procedure sounds much better.
The group in the radiology room were in high spirits. They had all attended the “Commi-Con” affair in San Jose where people buy, sell and trade comic books. I believe it was started some time ago by Steve Wozniak, the genius who will Steve Jobs, created Apple. I could be wong of course, but I do KNOW for a fact that Wozniak is the sort of person who would do this. During the procedure I asked one of the techs how large his collection was. He said “It depends on how large you think large is. Mine is 21,000 books. The other great conversation was devoted to the rattlesnake bit someone got the day before on top of Mission Peak when putting his hand beside the rock he was sitting on. Naturally the rattlesnake shook hands with him and a helicopter was called to haul him down to civilization. I know for a fact that he was on top of the peak, because I’ve hiked there, and that is where rocks large enough to sit upon are located. Last time I was there an illusive tiny blue butterfly was sunning itself.
Now surely this takes all your concentration away from what is happening to your body, along with the melody playing on the tape, which happened to be “A Horse With No Name”. I’ve always liked that song, though I can’t recall all the words or who did it.
Right after arriving home however, I discovered a large painful area around my middle which was black and blue. Turned out it was a “hematoma” and when I reported it, they sent me immediately to the emergency room where I lounged around in great comfort all day—from noon till eight o’clock, taking cat scans et al and they finally determined that it is resolving itself, so go home with no more worries.
The emergency room is an interesting place. It was Sunday when most people should be out enjoying the sunshine, but there were so many, lying in beds out in the halls, walking around wearing the cool robes which open in the back, visiting, etc. and of course, some who were really sick in the cubicles divided by curtains which can be closed for privacy. A few doctors trying to divide themselves up into many, and many nurses moving from place to place. A busy place indeed.
From the cot that you are placed on after dressing in one of the cool robes, they send you to various places for tests, in my case the room containing the huge cat scan machine. It takes quite awhile after the doctor determines the best way to go, for someone to wheel you down dimly lighted halls, which are vacant on a Sunday. After finding my self parked alongside a lonely wall I was reminded of a favorite trick in the auto repair business of giving someone a “wall job”; by parking your car alongside a wall to take a turn which may take a long while to accomplish.
After my wall job they completed a scan and wheeled me back to my cubicle. We had arrived at noon at the advice of 2 of my doctors, and by now it was mid afternoon with no apparent food or drink in sight. However the woman in the next cubicle was being fed spaghetti and meat sauce which smelled delicious to my hungry self. I plaintively begged for a little snack, but they said no food in case you need surgery. I went to sleep to forget the whole thing, and the young doctor came and said they were going to do another scan. Naturally I asked what they had seen that made them think they needed another one. He seemed surprised that I should ask, but I calmly explained that if I were making a dish of food or baking a cake and it didn’t turn out right that I would have to do it again. My cynical thought was CYA which as you may know means “protect yourself in case something goes wrong”. The carpentry and sewing businesses also have a saying: “measure twice, cut once”.
It was, all in all, an enlightening day, showing the dedication of so many in the medical profession, giving immediate care to so many unfortunates. On the other hand, I think if I were a doctor, the emergency room would be a never ending source of interest.
And a note to Mr. Trump, we are getting the same good care as we have had with Obamacare, so he doesn’t need to worry about us.