Friday, November 27, 2015

Title suggestions

Greetings my people! (I think maybe there are two people: my Mom and Dad)

Anyhow, I have my book finished and I am struggling with a title. It's kicking my butt. Okay. First, it's humor. Second, it's a memoir. Third, non fiction, of course. Weird stories of crazy crap that I have done or I've been involved with and I still say I'm innocent. Things like: The time I had drinks with Stevie Ray Vaughn and didn't know who he was until he told me. Stupid me. The time my EX EX husband (he was a paramedic firefighter) anyhow, he was working on the movie set for "What's Eating Gilbert Grape". They evidently have to always have an ambulance on movie sets or something. Plus, Leonardo DiCaprio was climbing a water tower. So, he was out there working. I was home, crying, eating, crying, couldn't sleep, crying. I was two weeks from my due date with my first child. I was a hot mess. Like lava hot. So, when he invited me to come and hang out with him and "these two guys" from the movie, I started crying, of course. I sobbed and asked who they were. I began really crying with WAAAAHHHH sounds. I couldn't go because I was so huge. I missed hanging out with Johnnie Depp and Leonardo DiCaprio. Life. Not fair. Anyhow, weird stories like that, and about other weird stuff.

Now. Please give me suggestions for a title. Nothing more than like four words, preferably.

I would say, "Love, me", but I will reserve that for a good title. You are welcome.

PLUS! Nobody told me the Property Brothers at their ranch thingie came on the other day! I am highly insulted and furious because NOBODY (MOTHER) told me it was on. I mean, I like to watch that man...I mean men. (I like one in particular. Oh for God's sake...it's Jonathan) He is my type all the way down his 6'4" frame. Dammit.

Okay. That's all for now. 10-4. Wait, that is not right. Bye.

HELPFUL HINT: Don't stick anything metal or your finger or really anything other than an electrical plug into an electric outlet. Don't touch metal that has electricity running through it. You will electrocute yourself. I only say that because I did that. Third degree burns and they had to dig the platinum which is a conductor...who knew? They had to dig that out of the charred flesh and you could see my bone. Yeah. That happened. I didn't work that day. Score!

Thursday, November 26, 2015

It's Been A While

SO, I haven't written in a long time. There are reasons, but let's get to the good stuff first, shall we? Yes, we shall. Unfortunately, my husband suffered a stroke 3 weeks ago. It was sudden and when I got the call, I swear I drove well over 90MPH to get to him. His boss called me and told me he "fell out". I don't know, is that one of those Texas phrases?

Well, it means the person in some way has either passed out( and then fell out, I guess), and is acting weird. She told me his speech was very slurred and that nobody could understand him. He was confused, as well. I thought it was his blood sugar dipping too low. I told her to give him a coke and something else sweet like cake icing in a tube, and he should be better. I did leave work to get to him, though. His boss then put him on the phone, and I swear to jebus that the sound of his voice was the scariest thing I've ever heard. None of it was intelligible, and at that point, I switched into crazy woman driving 90 miles per hour down the highway.

After they put my husband on the phone, it got passed to a police officer. He attempted to calm me down and not kill myself on the way. Then he asked, "Is he the retired police officer?" I told him that he was. From that point on, I had no issue getting to the hospital. I was probably over 30 miles away and I flew to get there. Once I was in our town, I continued my crazed death wish driving. The weird thing is that I passed over five police cars, and not one of them stopped me. I wouldn't have pulled over, anyhow, and right now I would be on some TV shows about people who run from the cops. It would have been a high speed pursuit, but I figured that when my final destination was the ER at the hospital, they would understand.

I arrived there before the ambulance with my husband arrived. He was about a 1/2 mile from the hospital. I found out the reason no police stopped me and they appeared to be directing traffic so I could fly down the road. The police officer who spoke to me on the phone had put out a radio call that all officers heard, telling them to let me pass, I was the spouse of an officer who was ill and being transported to the hospital. When I got about a mile from the hospital, I had two police cars behind me, but no lights or sirens. They were making sure I got to the hospital fast. How AWESOME is that?

Say what you will about cops, (but not in my hearing or I will go batshit crazy and break out my secret Ninja/Pirate moves on your ass. It would be an ass whuppin' that would go down into the pages of history books. Who are you going to call if someone breaks into your house? Your local crack dealer? Well, hell no. He probably is over charging anyhow and who needs that? No, you would call 911 and the police would come, and then you could go back to antagonizing cops to get a reaction and saying horrible things about them.

But I digress....turned out my husband had a stroke. I was paralyzed with fear, confusion and well, fear. I didn't want to alarm our kids who are away at college, or anyone else, so I waited to call anyone. He came in with vomit all over his shirt, and the only thing that appeared wrong was his speech. Everything else was fine. He passed all the stroke tests, they sent him for an MRI, a CT scan, and that all happened almost immediately. I have had to wait eons to get someone to come get me in the hospital. Not this time. This time, they got lab results back in less than a 1/2 hour. So, basically all of this hustle and bustle began to scare me even more. Nobody would tell me anything. The Dr. was a douche bag (for reasons I will share later.) The nurse was way more on the ball than that sorry assed Dr.

They had my husband grasp hands and see if his grip was the same on both sides, and it was. Both feet, and toes were fine, his legs were fine, and he didn't have anything drooping on his face. All in all, he seemed fine, but you couldn't understand a damned word he said. We sat and attempted to talk, but for the love of all that is holy, I couldn't tell what he said and he got very frustrated with me. I figured that was a pretty good sign. Yay! It might not even be a stroke! About 15 minutes later, he was paralyzed on his right side and his mouth was drooping on the right side. Wha? What the fuck? He was just FINE. Now...not so fine. I'm no shrinking violet so I began asking more questions than anyone could answer. MY theory is that he had a second stroke after his MRI. I spoke to another Dr. and she said that sounded right. Why did they not want to keep him? Why did I have to wig out so that they would life flight him to a much better hospital? Because he had a SECOND STROKE, but they didn't tell me. Assclowns. They hustled him into cardiac intensive care, and began a whole bottle of TPA to thin his blood, and the next thing I knew, I was driving to the next hospital which was in the next town over.

I arrived at about the same time as the helicopter. I now believe flying cars are in our future. I am serious. I believe I pulled a George Jetson move. I think I flew. In the air. Sort of. I'm not sure. But it was possible! When we got him into the hospital, they did a shit ton more tests. He was in ICU. Yep, he'd had a stroke, and there was a lesion on his brain in the right hemisphere. DAMMIT! He could do nothing at that point. They wouldn't let him have water or anything because he couldn't swallow properly. He waited two days before he was cleared for water. We stayed in ICU for about 7 or 8 days. They then took him down to the Acute care floor. It seemed just as serious as the ICU. Each nurse had only one patient. I even told a nurse "I don't care about that patient! The only patient that matters is my husband, so get in there and do your nursing stuff!" So I'm selfish, so what?

I can tell you this right now; if you are that severely impaired and in the hospital you better have someone who loves you stay there if possible. If you don't you will not get as good care. I am his advocate, his care giver, his person he can get impatient with, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Well, I would, too. I just lied. I would have it another way. I would have him not have a stroke. I've had to bathe him, help him on the toilet, wipe his rear, shave him, brush his teeth, and at first I had to feed him. I have to translate what he says to nurses, and some of the therapists. He began receiving speech, physical and occupational therapy. Those therapists were boss. I mean they should literally be the boss of that place. Of course, insurance won't pay for you to stay even though you need to. So, we were moved to where we are now, a rehab center. I have not left his side. I have slept alongside him, and done all of the other tasks he had to do. I have gone out and politely told the first person in scrubs that they better get their shit together or I would lose mine. He gets much more attention that way. I have become a fixture around here and all of the nurses call our room "The fortress", because I am guarding him.

Now on to the good stuff! Oh wait, my husband is progressing rapidly and he is determined to get out of here, but he is delusional because he thinks he'll go back to work. Um, not without movement in your right arm and leg, buddy. Ok, so this is one of the best places in the world for people watching, and the subsequent stories I concoct about everyone in my mind. It is mind blowing how many people there are to just be a nosy bitch about. I am a nosy bitch anyhow, but this is a whole new level.

Most of the patients in here are quite elderly. Therefore, they want everything THEIR WAY AND THEY WANT IT NOW. I love it. Let them know who their daddy is! My husband is quiet because of his speech. There is a little old lady who is a tiny little thing you want to pick up and cuddle. She has a baby voice and is just precious. I don't pick her up because even though I am fairly certain she would like it, the stupid staff wouldn't like it. Always ruining my fun.

There is another patient who is in his late 60s and has long hair and a bandanna tied around his head. I call him "Wille Nelson". He will holler "HEY!" at me when I am at the little alcove with the coffee maker and refrigerator are. That is how I met him. He wheeled over to me and said, "I said HEY!" He then opened the fridge and procured a juice, a small diet soda, a half of a sandwich and an applesauce and a coffee. He thought he could just pick them up and roll then on over to his table where he holds court daily. I took most of it away from him and said "I'll carry this, you can't get it all." He seemed a bit pissed at first, but when we got back to his table, I opened the juice, the applesauce the sandwich, and everything else. He thanked me profusely, but also began grilling me with questions about my origin, who my patient was that I am here for, just basically doing all of the things that keep me in my house all the time. I don't like chit chat. I despise small talk. Close talk, loud talk, I hate them all.

Then, his compatriot ...damn, I can't think of his name. However, since that little gang of hooligans stopped me every time I was near, I found out that this guy was from the same town my grandmother was from. A very small town that most people in Texas have never even heard of. He had a tendency to doze off. Like...while talking. Then he would wake up and forget who I was or what we had been talking about. Bless him. BERNIE! That was his name. Anyhow, "Willie Nelson" whose real name is Walter, always went outside to this tree near the street to smoke. That was the designated place. Bernie would go with him. Walter could push his chair with his hands, and so could have Bernie, but he just propelled himself with his feet. He was Walter's groupie. There were a couple of old lady groupies, too. One would be in her nightgown by six o'clock and as my husband and I would walk by on our nightly practice walks, she would stand in her doorway and tell everyone "Good night" until she got tired and then she went in and went to bed.

Everyone knew when everyone else was going to be discharged, and we all felt the same way. Everyone was discharged too early and it was the insurance companies fault. At any rate, there was a Japanese lady who had the same stroke as Wally. Same spot even. So, they finally got her into a wheelchair, and they made her wear a sling which Wally was supposed to, but refused to do. She started coming out and propelling her self very slowly all up and down the room. One time, Walter got ahold of me and Wally and we were sitting there with him, and he goes.."HEY! DEAR! HEY!" So, we all looked toward where he was looking, and sure enough, it was the little Japanese lady in her wheelchair. The problem was, she was wheeling herself into every single room and hanging out. She was just coming back out of Walter's room. She ignored him when he said, "HEY! SWEETHEART! WHY YOU IN MY ROOM? BY GOD!" We all shrugged and went back to our conversation. Walter's job was traveling the country playing pool for God's sake. Is that even a job? He had had a leg amputated due to diabetes complications.
He was also the biggest gossip I've ever met in my life and I loved him for it. He was discharged about a week before we were. I hope he is kicking butt playing pool in his wheelchair.

OH! BIG DRAMA one night. They brought in a lady and she was in the room next to ours. We are in our room, it was about 7pm, the hospital is quieting down because almost all of the old people were asleep and a lot of them got morphine regularly, so...there ya go. The new lady had just been brought in a few hours earlier. All of a sudden, I hear a big bang and then someone weakly hollering, "Help me!" I ran over and saw her sprawled out on the floor and ran hollering for a nurse, who came running and then two more came. I told them what I saw. I went back into our room. I told Wally about it. He made some inappropriate comment which we both probably cracked up at. We went to sleep. The next day.....I peek into the room next door because I am a nosy bitch....no lady.

Where did she go??? What is the meaning of this? Why was I not consulted? So, while Wally was at therapy, I did my daily sleuthing. According to my sources, (the nurses at the nurses station) they had transferred the lady to a bed right across from then where they could see her. They also put the god awful loudest alarm in the world on her wheelchair and her bed. IT WENT OFF EVERY FIVE DAMNED MINUTES. In other words, she tried to get up when she wasn't supposed to all the damned time. Nuisance. The alarm would start and they would all look at each other and one would sigh and say, "I'll go..." I would have gone and duct taped her to the damned bed.

Well, I am exhausted and am going to sleep. We are home and I had forgotten I had started this while at the rehab hospital. So, this post happened BEFORE the other post about the stroke...and after. It's weird. Anyhow, it's all part of the same story.

HELPFUL HINT: LOOK BOTH WAYS WHEN CROSSING THE STREET.

Being Thankful

Hello! Tis me! So much has happened in the last few months that it's hard to remember it all.

On September 21st, it was Wally's birthday. We went to work. I texted him "Happy Birthday, do you want to go out tonight?" and I never got a response. Which isn't really odd for Wally. For some reason...some unknown reason, I had the ringer on my phone on. I was working with the kids, and it was about 10:30 or so. Maybe closer to 11:00. I heard my phone. I ran to my desk to pick it up. It was a strange woman.
Strange woman: Is this Mrs. Wally?
Me: I am Wally's wife, Helen, yes.
NOW I AM GETTING WORRIED.
Strange woman: Yes, well, I am (can't remember her name) and I work with Wally. He sort of fell out.
Me: Fell out? What does that mean? Is he okay? He has low blood sugar, give him a Coke or candy bar...just shove it in his mouth.
Strange woman: Okay...Okay, we did that and he is still acting weird.
Me: Weird how?
Strange woman: Well, some of the other employees said he was walking strangely, and then he came up to me to say something and he couldn't form the words and he was very weak and wobbly.
Hang on.

Phone changes hands.

By now, I'm frantic and running to a neighboring classroom to get someone to watch my class while I go to the office to tell them I have to leave. Now.

New person on phone (male): Um, ma'am?
Me: (frantically) YES?
Guy who turns out to be city police officer: Is this the same Mr. Freeman who is retired from KPD?
Me: yes, yes...why?
Cop: I thought it was him. I've got EMS on the way. He is refusing transport. Here, I'll let you talk to him.
Wally: absolutely unintelligible words that I couldn't even identify as English...
Me: (screaming while driving) WALLY! I'M ON MY WAY, I LOVE YOU! I AM ON MY WAY, DO WHAT THE COP SAYS! I WILL MEET YOU AT THE HOSPITAL!
Lady again: He is refusing to go. They are here but..
Me: PUT HIM ON THE DAMNED AMBULANCE NOW AND GET HIM TO THE HOSPITAL. I'LL MEET HIM THERE.
Lady: Well...ok...but I have him sitting in a chair here...
Me: PUT HIM ON THE DAMNED AMBULANCE NOW!!!

So, as I was driving like a striped assed ape down the highway, I was praying, I had my flashers on, I was crying and I was taking calls. All were from the cop and the paramedics. All were telling me he wanted to wait for me, and he wouldn't get on the ambulance. I got pissed and then the paramedic told me, "Ma'am, we REALLY need to get him to the hospital NOW." I told them to tie him down. They put Wally on the phone and I told him, "You are going now. I'll meet you there, you are getting in that ambulance!"

I continued on my way, (I was about 20 miles away..all open highway until I hit our city limits). When I exited, every single intersection was closed. There was a police car and an officer waving me through while all other cars sat and waited. I went through probably 8 intersections like that. I never had to stop. I was thinking that if they tried to stop me for speeding, they would have a high speed chase on their hands and it would end at the hospital. As I passed Wally's work, a police car pulled out behind me, then went around me on the right and sped up to the next intersection. They did the same thing. They did it on purpose, because one of their own was sick. They cleared the way for me to get to him. How can I thank them? It truly humbled me.

SO. I get to the hospital BEFORE THE STUPID AMBULANCE. Tyler met me there. I run into the ER and they tell me that he is just arriving so sit and hang on a few minutes. Not more than five minutes and they rushed me into a room where he was in a bed with vomit all over him and he was babbling. I got a tissue and ran up to him, kissed him, tried to talk to him, looked around and nobody was saying anything...I asked who everyone was and they were all nurses. I cleaned the vomit off of him. The nurse who was watching his vitals, (not checking...staring at the screen without looking away) finally told me another nurse would speak to me out in the hallway. A Dr. came in. This Dr. will never ever get paid by me, or anybody I am remotely related to because he was a complete incompetent.

At any rate, the Dr. talked to me outside, not the nurse. I asked, "Was this a stroke?" he said, "Oh yeah...yep." That was my answer. Then they said he was going for an MRI, a CT scan, all of that crap. We go back in and the awesome nurse was doing the stroke check that they did for 3 more days like every 10 minutes. When I got there, they only thing wrong was his speech. Even that seemed to improve a bit. His arms were both fine, both had the same grip...his mouth wasn't drooping. He said: "I have a headache." The nurse said, "A headache? On a scale of 1 - 10 how bad is the pain?" Wally said, "Ohhhh...a two". IT WAS A SECOND STROKE AND HE TOLD THEM IT WAS AT THE BASE OF HIS HEAD IN THE BACK WHICH WHERE THE STROKES WERE. So now, he has had two strokes, and NOW, he had no movement on his right side AT ALL. His mouth drooped and his speech was just....I mean you just had no clue what he was saying.

He did say he was going back to work the next day. Um. No. So, nobody told me he had a second stroke. I just sort of figured it out. I mentioned it to all of the millions of doctors we would see over the next month. Last week, I was vindicated. One of his specialists said, "You've never seen the MRI?" We hadn't. I told him the story of how he was when first in the ER. The Dr. said, "Yes, there were two strokes, let me show you." I wanted to shred someone. They had told us it was a very small area of his brain, maybe less than 2 millimeters. NO THEY LIED. It was much longer and a bit wider. Had it been any wider, he could have lost all involuntary things like breathing and heart function.

I demanded he be life flighted from the initial death hospital to a level 1 trauma hospital in the neighboring town. I beat them THERE, too. But, he did need to get there fast. When I went into the ICU, a dr. told me I couldn't see him yet. I saw a bunch of people behind the curtain in his room. It was all glass. One of the dr.'s saw how terrified I was, and he said, "Come here...look, he is in there, they are just getting him settled, and hooked up and evaluating him. I will come get you as soon as I can." He was a very kind soul. And he kept his word.

When I walked into Wally's ICU room, I was relieved, terrified, ...you name it. I couldn't show it, though. He didn't realize what had happened. Finally, I realized he was confused and I said, "Sweetie, do you know what happened?" He indicated that he didn't. I told him it was a stroke. He denied it,but he wasn't really "with it" at that point. Cognitively he has not regained the ability to not be impulsive and to realize how serious a situation is.

He tried to chop down a tree with a chainsaw the other day for the love. I even took pictures of him dragging a chainsaw. I was hollering at him the whole time. "I am showing this to the Dr. You are insane. You better put it down or I'll take your cane away!" He got mad at me, threw it down and used his cane to go inside. Thank GOD.

After about four days in ICU (where the poor thing got no water or anything by mouth for two days because he couldn't swallow), we were moved to the acute cardiac floor. It was supposed to be less restrictive, and it was to an extent. The chair bed was much more comfortable than the one in his room in ICU. I slept by his side the entire month and a half.
He wasn't hooked up to as many alarms and beeping contraptions as he had been. He couldn't get comfortable in his bed, though. He couldn't turn over on his own and he was hot, and couldn't sleep (I think he was afraid to go to sleep), and basically he was miserable. He did not get on his feet for over a month. I stayed and helped him and according to the nurse, I made their job much easier.

After another two or three weeks there, we were released to a rehab hospital in another town even further from home. He was taken there by ambulance. When I arrived, they were getting him settled. It was a nice facility and man, did we meet some characters. Their family sleeping arrangement wasn't comfortable, but I didn't care, because the second my head came within a foot of my pillow I was OUT. I slept through them coming in at night to check his vitals, I only woke up when he spoke for some reason. He improved vastly there. I was very grateful for that place and the wonderful people who helped my husband.

I became a world class thief there, too. Let's just say that "housekeeping" wasn't a very good word for that job and who did it. (Seriously...dude...the girl "cleaned" the sink with a wet washcloth. Dry toothpaste was in it. I found the cleaner and did it myself.) So, I snuck around and found where they kept all the towels, sheets, bath sheets, pillows, extra blankets..anything. I just went and got what we needed whenever we needed it. They only bathed the patients every other day according to room number. We were even number days. Uh, hell no. I bathed him daily and changed his sheets. All they did, was check his blood sugar, blood pressure, give him meds, and make him comfortable. It was the therapists that kicked ass. Without them, he would be unable to do anything. Pool therapy was amazing. He couldn't move even a finger, and after his first pool therapy session, he could move his pinky. Doesn't sound like much, but it was huge at that time.
We stayed there almost a month. It was hard on my son at home, and hard for me to have my clothes, FREAKING FOOD BECAUSE I WASN'T PAYING FIVE BUCKS FOR A TRAY. Everything was a bit harder being so far from home.

Now, our reality is different. I have taken a leave from work, and I only have about another month left. I am scared about how he will do. I currently dress him, bathe him, make all of his meals, make sure he takes his medicine, and I am pretty much his "live in nurse". I cannot hire a nurse because they won't love him like I do. He is getting better. His speech is pretty much fine, now. When he gets tired it gets slurred. If he is self conscious about it, he can't control the slurring. He wears a brace on his right leg that stabilizes it. He has a wheelchair, a walker, and we bought a cane. He no longer needs the wheelchair, but he is supposed to use the walker. Well to HELL WITH THAT, DAMMIT! I DON'T NEED THAT! Nope. He is using the cane. He is wobbly, but he is getting around. He cannot use his right arm or hand at all. We have a physical therapist and an occupational therapist who come three times a week and work with him. We are supposed to start out patient therapy soon, but I don't know what their evaluation was the other day. He has to be approved for it only if he is ready. His impulsivity might affect that. However, he is alive. He is waking up everyday. He uses his computer. He watches television, we go for walks, we go to places like Lowe's or the Home Depot because he loves them and we walk around until he gets tired. He reads. He eats, takes two huge handfuls of meds daily and goes to sleep. He is bored and gets cranky. THANK GOD.

On a happier note: my son had his first art exhibit and it went great! Our daughter has met a great guy who she is dating, and he is a state trooper. Our youngest will transfer to another school in the fall. I will have to continue to teach until I am dead, probably. I certainly have no sick days available, or state personal days. I had so many, I have been paid the whole time. I have to go back after the holidays, though. I am terrified. We will just have to get through it. We've come this far.

HELPFUL HINT: Be aware of signs of a stroke: FAST: F-facial drooping; A-arm weakness; S-speech difficulty; T-time to call EMS.