Finally Home. Another Bullet Dodged
I just spent five weeks getting healed and rehabilitated. Something funny happened on the way to pick up my Dad from the hospital. I couldn’t breathe very well after taking about 50 steps. I sounded like an old steam locomotive by the time I made it to his room.
Parents can get pretty demanding, which I figured would be the other way around with his newly-installed pacer and defibrillator. He told me to go get checked out in the ER. He’d find another way home. I thought it might be my heart pitchin’ a fit, but after all sorts of tests, pictures and the usual things that determine whether your heart is still functioning, the doc finally came into the room and said I had bilateral pulmonary emboli-blood clots in both lungs. He was impressed that I was still able to speak, not to mention still alive. Apparently the mortality rate for something like that is iffy at best. The following week was spent getting me over the hump with blood thinners and oxygen. I was the consummate blood donor twice a day.
I was finally told that I should go to a rehab facility and I asked if I could drive. Their laughing was uncalled for, but I was transported in a wheelchair van to my next stop. I felt fairly good that several of the hospital nursing staff expressed interest in reading my books. The next four weeks were spent learning how to pace myself and hopefully avoid future clots. The good thing was that these people were even more interested in reading what I had when they weren’t putting me through my paces. One of them read all of my books during my time there.
I had a whole new market to sell to, but I don’t know if I’d repeat how it came about. Suffice it to say that there are many silver linings in hard times. The credit goes to God and the medical staffs of the places that guided me back to my own digs.