I woke from an odd little dream this morning. I drove into the underground garage of a building that was undergoing some remodeling. I parked and walked inside.
I saw a doctor who admitted me. (Hmm, must have been a hospital) I was taken to a room, given a gown and put to bed. The next day the doctor released me and asked if there was anything he could do for me before he left. I shook my head no.
I went into the bathroom to change into my clothes which were oddly enough a pair of pants and a simple blue blouse.
When I came out the bed had been made and there was a small pill cup with two cherry lozenges. Sweet!
I walked toward the outside door and I noticed that it was nearly sundown.
A to Z says to dream of a hospital says that one needs to improve physical or mental health. Um, not a problem for me. The alternative definition of Hospital means losing control of your body. Well, that is certainly true.
Other medical folk have custody of my body from 10 am to 2 pm on Monday, Wednesday, Friday. But I rather enjoy chatting with the nurses and the tech.
I have gotten to know a few of the other patients and generally have a fairly benevolent time in the chair. Which is cushy leather, small TV swings forward. I use a small pair of ear phone things to plug into the TV or my Kindle. I have a neck pillow and a blankie to keep me warm.
This week has been especially good and the tech was able to use both sides of the fistula for the dialysis. The carotid cannula has rested this week. Perhaps in a month or two, Dr. Caiman will remove the device.
Since the fistula has matured at long last (it took a year) I have decided that Miss Gale is taking back two pink five pound dumbbells. Poor girlie girl.
No comments:
Post a Comment