Text 4718, 122 rader
Skriven 2006-08-21 19:00:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: happy end of trip 120
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0803 UA 120 IAD BOS 1320 1457 320 2A

Some guy had tried to poach 3A (last row of first class),
but that was easily remedied, as he didn't complain when
challenged and went meekly back to his place in steerage.
Pretty nice flight, smooth, and thank goodness as my head
was really starting to feel as though it was going to
explode or something.

My friend Lee picked me up at the airport and dropped
me off at the ER at Mass General, having been tipped off
by Carol about my plight.

Sat there for many hours until they decided to do a CAT
scan which found a large subdural hematoma, upon which they
called in a specialist, Dr. Swearingen, to do an emergency
craniotomy - afterward he gave a report on how a geyser
erupted from my head when my skull was drilled into. When I
awoke there was a surgical team clustered around asking me
whether I knew where I was. I thought a bit and answered
that I had no idea, which gave them a chuckle - apparently
not too many people admit this.

Next I knew I was in a room overlooking the Charles, only
I had the aisle bed, and my roommate was an incredible
screamer. He screamed in English, he screamed in Italian.
Nothing I said made any difference (and I was completely
nonconfrontational). I tried my rusty and broken Italian
on him, and at least he responded, but in a deranged way.
In the morning, when his family inquired, one of the
doctors described it as "hospital psychosis," attributable
to being in unfamiliar surroundings and being wakened every
couple hours for something or another. I mourned for my
briefcase, which had my eyeshades and earplugs in it.

I asked if they had eyeshades and earplugs, but the nurse
said they didn't have any. Later, when Carol came, she
found that at the back of the nurses' station they had two
big boxes of earplugs, only nobody knew they were there.

Next day the screamer went off to rehab and they replaced
him with a quiet, pleasant fellow who'd had a mild stroke
and who was being stabilized for that before they did
heart surgery later on in the week.

I was confined to a horizontal position, a position that
normally doesn't bother me, but having an enforced posture
of no more than 15 degrees gets boring - and makes food
quite difficult to deal with. They started me on full
solids immediately on the day of the operation - a bad
idea, as it is difficult to swallow solids at such an
angle, and my first meal was a chicken breast that had
probably been a respectable portion at one time but that
had been cooked long enough so it was a mummified little
pathetic thing. My friends Dirk and Jackie were there at
the time, and they expressed dismay ... Jackie helped me by
cutting (with difficulty) little bits of chicken for me, but
they were hardly even chewable, and so I ate little.

During the day, Carol flew up and brought eyeshades and
earplugs, and henceforth my slumbers were much more
tranquil. She was with me morning to night and can be
credited largely for my speedy recovery. She helped me eat
for the days I was horizontal and snuggled whenever there
was a modicum of privacy. (That day, my briefcase also
showed up; my cane did not, but I sent Carol down to Lost &
Found, where it turned up right away.)

The next two days were unremarkable except when my I.V.
arm blew up to Michelin Man size - after they took the
needle out I convinced them not to replace it. The swelling
stayed for quite a while and in fact is noticeable now,
weeks later.

On day 2 postop, my friends Joel and Ellen brought a violin
for my perusal - they were thinking of buying it for one of
their daughters - and I played on it for a couple minutes -
it is hard to play from a horizontal position! There are
pix somewhere on the Web of this event. A cute note came
next day from one of the patients down the hall who said
that it brought him back to the days when he used to listen
to his grandfather.

Food at the hospital apparently encourages you to leave
ASAP. Day 1 I had asked for a pureed meal that I could eat
through a straw but was served turkey that would have been
like deli turkey roll, only it tasted as though it had been
marinated in salt (not pureed of course). Unbelievable.
Breakfasts included the saltiest possible bacon and the
greasiest possible sausage. For the rest, I had an unripe
fruit plate, not so nice, and several iterations of arroz
con pollo, which I found tolerable but bitter with saffron.
Luckily several friends came in and brought tributes,
including a lovely 81% Valrhona chocolate, a half gallon of
heavily garlicked strawberry gazpacho, several cans of Dr.
Brown's cream soda, and a few other tasty things, so I ended
up getting enough Calories after all (actually, I cleaned my
plate of the arroz con pollo every time).

Sunday they told me I could sit up, and that night they
said that as I had been a good boy I could even take a walk
down the hall! I must have done okay, because Monday morning
the neurosurgeon told me that I could leave, pending reports
from the OT, the PT, and the Eye and Ear Infirmary (my left
eye socket was pooling with fluid). These things were duly
done: the eye people decided there was no untoward bleeding
behind the eye, the PT decided I didn't need PT, and I
passed the OT test with flying colors: that gave as much
satisfaction as acing the College Boards. The OT test:
accompanied by the therapist, my task being to go down to
the lobby gift shop, pick out a yellow candle, a Milky Way
bar, and a get-well card, then find my way back to the room
without assistance. Monday at 7 PM I was out of there,
released into the hands of Joel and Ellen. On Wednesday
afternoon I was standing for an hour in the hot sun at the
service for an old musician friend, and by Thursday I was
playing sonatas again.


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