The Salsa Walrus

The room I was in contained 4 beds. Beside Mrs. Shnitzel there were two other people in the room when I arrived.

One was discharged almost as soon as I arrived, the second was an older gentleman who lay there amused watching the commotion for most of the day. I think he must have been heavily sedated. A series of Doctors came and went from his section of the room chatting to him briefly. Over the din of the hospital I determined that he had already had multiple bypass surgeries and was diabetic. He also had kidney failure caused by the diabetes and the amount of drugs he had consumed over a number of years. He was still smiling though.

One thing that struck me was the number of people with heart conditions and diabetes. It was quite shocking. As the week progressed I realized just how lucky I was. Diabetes leads to way more complications with heart disease. It becomes more and more difficult to treat heart problems and the heart problems complicate the diabetes. It becomes like watching a dog chase it's tail as the doctors and nurses struggle to treat these individuals.

By the end of day two the older gentleman was transferred to a private room so he could go through 4 hours of dialysis without being bothered. That just left Mr. and Mrs. Shnitzel and myself occupying the room. After a delicious dinner of pre-formed gray/brown roast beef (so tender that you stuff up the cracks of your log home walls to insulate you from the cool spring breezes) things settled down. Mr. Shnitzel kissed his wife and bid her goodnight just after the announcement that visiting hours were now over. All the guests were asked to head for the exits. Bedtime was coming.

I lay there on my side thinking, 'it's just Mrs. Shnitzel and me, maybe I'll get a decent nights sleep'. All we needed was the drug cart to wobble in and give us our sleep medications, then bliss. What was I thinking? I forgot where I was, the not so quiet hospital environment.

Shortly after 9:15 pm, the rattle of a gurney could be heard in the hallway, it paused at the nurse's station. Through the doors of our room came the ambulance crew with one of them giving a brief history. The other one was singing, I kid you not, he was belting out some soft rock favourite at full volume like he was trapped in a portable shower.

"62 year old female, suffering from chest pains, two doses of nitro at home two more during the ride when pain increased, subsequent easing of pain, please sign hear for our release, Don't Worry Dear Your in Good Hands Now, one two three shift her and Goodnight."

As the gurney passed the end of my bed I glanced up. For a moment I couldn't tell what it was I seeing. I did have my glasses on but there was this bizarre shape in front of me. There didn't seem to be any legs, just this massive torso. Really I'm not trying to be mean, it looked like there was just a torso with a salt and pepper clown wig at one end. After they shifted her onto the bed the curtain closed. I knew I hadn't received my sleeping medication so I wasn't dreaming.

This was the arrival of the Salsa Walrus. The attending started to take her information. It was like listening to a medical dictionary. Angina, arthritis, sleep apnea, psoriasis, 4 bypass surgeries, 6 stents, celiac disease, diabetes then I lost count. Five foot two, three hundred plus pounds, 'My chest pains started after my last Salsa lesson'. She had taken up Salsa again to get back into shape. Don't laugh, that's what she said even if she was lying. Then I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing when the doctor said in the morning she would have to go for a treadmill stress test. She responded with, "I don't do stress tests very well because my legs are too short."
You can Salsa but you can't walk on a treadmill because your legs are too short. Isn't walking easier than Salsa….?

It only got more bizarre from there, as if this wasn't funny weird enough. The doctor said she would have to move one of her breasts to listen to her chest. There was an audible thump onto the bed as the breast was moved. "When was the last time you ate?" ….."Noon."….."W'ell see what we can get you."………"I have Celiac Disease."………."W'ell see what we can get you."……..

Time passed, drugs arrived I started to drift off as a plate of Mandarin Chicken with Rice arrived. I drifted off to a soft hoovering sound. Such was the arrival of the Salsa Walrus.

Meet the Schnitzels

After my surgery I was transferred to West 4, this is a newer part of Royal Jubilee Hospital. I was placed in the room that housed 4 patients.








One of the first things you notice as you enter this wing or any wing is a series of signs. Sanitize Your Hands before Entering, Visiting Hours are from 3pm to 8pm, Quiet Time is from 1:00 pm to 3:00pm, 2 Visitors per Patients are Allowed and finally Course Language or Physical Violence is Prohibited, Ejection from the Hospital will Occur.

Once you've been in your room for more than five minutes you quickly realize is that none of these rules seem to enforced, even the last one. I tested that rule the second day I was in. I didn't commit a violent act but surprise surprise I did use some course language as I walked down the hallway with Janna and Merete. I muttered something like " Get me the fuck out of here", much to the amusement of one of the other inmates.

Why did I utter such a profane request? It was because I had experienced the Schnitzels. The Schnitzels were an interesting couple of Austrians in their late eighties. Mr. Schnitzel is a short cartoon of a man almost a parody of a knee slapping Bavarian. He is about five feet five inches tall and when he isn't scurrying around he talks nonstop. Mrs. Schnitzel was the one in the hospital bed, at first she hardly moved. I think Mr. Schnitzel had verbally exhausted her and she was just recharging her batteries. I finally got a glimpse of her sitting on the edge of the bed. She was a small woman with dyed brown hair, she sat there with an oxygen mask on. It wasn't your normal clear tubed oxygen set up. It actually looked like she had a collapsed toilet paper roll stuck to her face like a paper moustache. Her bed was across the room from the bathroom, Mr. Schnitzel had gotten an extension attached to Mrs. Schnitzel oxygen line so she cross the room with some help and use the washroom.

The day I was shipped up to West 4, it was quiet time around 1:30 pm and Mr. Schnitzel was out to lunch with the other Schnitzels apparently. Shortly after Merete and Janna left the room, the horde of Austrian Canadians arrived back from having bratwurst and a lot of coffee. The eight of them filed in at about 2:30 and surrounded Momma Schnitzel's bed. They then proceeded to talk over each for the next 2 1/2 hours at a variety of volumes. I thought okay this is a one time visit it will get better. The bulk of the Schnitzels bid Momma goodnight and left Mr. Schnitzel with his wife as supper arrived. Poppa Schnitzel never shut up until 8pm. He read Momma her hospital menu, all the labels in the room, talked business, did the crossword out loud, you name it he talked about it.

The most fascinating thing for me as an observer was the language. He spoke fluent Germ-glish, a sentence would start in either English or German and points of interest would be punctuated in either language. Flowing from one language to the other was without pause or difficulty. I found it fascinating for the first 30 minutes but after 5 1/2 hours it became a little tedious. I swear the man did not breath. Finally day one ended and we lay in bed and listened to the sounds of the night; puking, carts, room buzzers the clatter of various shoe types and sizes …….finally the drugs kicked in and I slept for 3 or 4 hours.

Wednesday Morning. I hoped the day would be better. These foolish thoughts left me at 7:30am when Mr. Schnitzel arrived to read the breakfast menu and the morning paper. Then family Schnitzel arrived on mass and the din began and ran until noon at which time the lunch menu was read aloud like some kind of German Operatic Event. The entire family participated. Maybe I exaggerate a bit, but everyone gave an opinion. Then Poof, they were gone just prior to Merete and Janna's arrival. It was the Silence of the Schnitzel, the girls couldn't understand why I was on edge and muttered the afore mentioned profanity.

Thursday morning, Merete arrived and received the full Schnitzel experience. Even she was impressed with Poppa Schnitzel. Without a word of exaggeration Poppa Schnitzel talked for at least 4 hours straight. I know this because I was busy trying to convince my nurse to consult the doctor and get me sprung from this insanely noisy place and that took 4 hours. Don't get me wrong, there was a lot of love there, a lot of noisy Schnitzel Love.

Stories

This is a picture of me (of course) waking up after the surgery.

I have a list of story option for you viewers.



Even though I have posted a couple of stories I have a few more.Let me know what you want to hear first by leaving a comment.

• Meet the Schnitzels.
• When things started to go South.
• He's not Here.
• Mrs. Schnitzel and the arrival of the Salsa Walrus.
• Scandinavian Filipinos.
• You can't hear your self Scream.
• John Boy's Book reviews.
• Favourite Visitors.
• You say Tomato and I say go..........Yourself.
• Escape from Purgatory.
• INR up INR down INR just right.
  

Perky Young (?) Breasts

I know what you're thinking.... What is he on about now.

I woke up from surgery admittedly a little stiff by I woke up that was the main thing.

All was well until Dr. Sulllltan arrived.
I was in a holding cell just off of West Purgatory sitting in my bed hoping but knowing I was in it for one night.

Sulllltan arrived and said "Everything went well, but they (you know them) will be putting in a Heprin Drip in at Midnight, so I think we (you know we) should put a little pressure on the incision." I sat there like a lump and said 'Okay'. He walked over to the sink/storage area and grabbed two gauze pads and a roll of 2" tape. He slapped 3" over my left shoulder and then tugging it as tight as he could he pulled it across my wound and my pec and then pulled it under my armpit.

Sulllltan then proceeded to wrap the full roll of tape round and round under both armpits through the hair across the hair on my back, around my neck. When the roll ran out he scurried over grabbed another roll of 1 1/2" tape and then continued round and round stretching it as tight as possible until he ran out.

He then said, "Not the best tape job, not pretty but it should do. After all I implant pacemakers not tape up wounds. We'll see you in 6 weeks."

His partner now slack jawed turned and walked away with Sulllltan.

I was stunned, and hadn't realised that I was hunched over while he was taping me. I tried to straighten up, which of course ripped off my armpit and back hair.

The nurse came in, shook her head and then admired my perky young(?) breasts. They weren't so young but they were perky.

Days Later

8 Days later this is what my incision looks like. I have six small pieces of special 'fall off when they are ready' tape strips.




It's not bad and soon I'll be used to it. Right now I can feel the weight of the device. The bruise is a little tender but itches more than anything.

Apparently I am allergic to the adhesive used in the tapes and badges. It itches like crazy where ever the adhesive sat. You scrub and think that you have removed all of it and a good layer of your skin. The next day I put on my work hoody and went out into the yard. Later I went to have my blood taken and discovered there was a lot of dust in the sleeves of the hoody. All the tape residue had picked up the dust and I looked like I hadn't bathed for weeks.

Escapeing From RJH West Purgatory Level 3

Here's an excerpt from
West Purgatory Level 3.

Vuuurman (pronounced Verminnn) my captor worked in league with the other Doctors to keep the other cellmates and myself as uncomfortable as possible.

The terrified staff followed the Doctors' orders fearing that they would be punished if they didn't. During quiet time, floor polishers would run up and down the hallways at breakneck speed.

The staff would push only the carts with wobbly wheels back and forth for the full 2 hours for maximum effect.

They would pause only to allow the sound of puking to punctuate the constant mayhem. After day 3 I thought to myself, I haven't heard this much puking since day one of fashion week in Paris.

I worked together with Ron and Gail my cellmates to formulate an escape plan. First we thought of trying to draw attention to our plight by writing HELP on the windows of the cell. The plan was to use feces to write with. We pooled our resources but to no avail, because all we could do was pool our resources. A new plan was required..........

More to come in the next few days.

Ever had one of thooose dayz?

You ever had one of those days when...........the first fucking phone call is the hospital saying Mr. Grey-Noble Good Morning this is Doctor YouDon't Wannhearfrom.

"There seems to have been a communication error yesterday, when I talked to the ward yesterday I said" if the ICD doctors are good with self injections then Mr Grey-Noble can go go home" I hadn't actually heard back from them. I heard back from them and they said 'NO' so we're going to have to have you come back into the hospital and be re admitted to be put back on the heprin drip. When I got back to the ward clerk yesterday you had already left, so you have to come back in. Thanks, sorry for the confusion."

You ever have one of those days when you find out you're so popular they want you back the next day. I'm having one of those days. Oh to be clot free and full of fun again, maybe tomorrow. Needless to say if my INR results this morning are good I'm going to be more pissed off than I am now and ask for some gas money.

Still ticking and still Kicking John

Wired for Sound

John has successfully made it through another surgery. He looks great and is a little cranky, which is always a good sign. I was about to go on and on, but I know John likes to tell his own stories (who doesn't) - so if you wait a couple or three days he will fill you in on what he went through. Thank-you to everyone for your thoughts and prayers; knowing that you are there for us makes this crazy journey much more bearable.

20,775 Days and Counting

This morning I woke and for some reason I wondered, how many days have I been on this planet?


I know some of you have wondered which planet I came from, to be honest some days I'm not sure. You can always ask my sister Linda, I'm pretty sure she'll know.



To answer the original question of the day I pulled out my calculator. Yes I do have a calculator and it revealed to me that I am 20,775 days old today. It's not my birthday, on my birthday I plan to be 20,805 days old. That's a lot of days, I haven't figured out how many hours yet. I am not that ambitious, besides that may be too tiring and possibly a bit depressing. Depressing especially if you subtract the number of hours spent watching TV or worse the amount of time lost being forced to wait through commercials. Enough said.

Tomorrow is the next phase of my journey. Tomorrow I will wake up in the Quality Inn at about 5am, scrub myself down with a special sponge and head off to the hospital to get my heart tuned up and regulated. I would be a fool if I wasn't a bit nervous. That doesn't mean I am not calm on the outside I am. On the inside, I'm just as nervous as last year when they cracked me open. The best part is I won't be splayed open for six hours this should be a walk in the park. The surgery should take between 1 & 3 hours.

Thanks everyone for your support over the past year while this story has been played out. I look forward to blogging about my latest adventure in a couple of days. In the meantime Merete will probably post tomorrow after she has some news to tell you.

A special Thanks to Janna & Travis who will be coming over to help Merete worry and help me through this. A big hug to Brie who just called me from Geneva to wish me well and catch up on the latest mountain adventures.

Cheers!

Heprin How To Video.

It didn't hurt a bit, really you should
try it some time.

Andy Rooney Moment

You ever have one of thoose dayz?
You wake up on time, eat your breakfast have a coffee, shower and shave ready for your first appointment.





Ever had one thooose dayz when everything seems to be place, you drive to your appointment and arrive early and no one is in the waiting room except you.

Ever had one thooose dayz when your Doctor can't figure out why you are there and why you need a physical when you see him every other week. He then ticks all the appropriate boxes for the report even the one where you lie a little bit.

Ever had one thooose dayz when he gives you your prescriptions and then comments on your pending surgery. "This should give you some peace of mind having the defibulator put in, won't improve your condition but it is good for safety." You stand there a moment and discover that you have turned into one those big eyed kids in the black velvet paintings. Staring up you sputter, "But I thought if it resynchronized my ventricles it would improve my condition." He tilts his head and says "It Might."

Ever had one thooose dayz when you drive forty minutes to pick up your prescriptions only to find they won't be ready until 3pm and it's only 10:30 in the morning?

Ever had one thooose dayz when you turn into Andy Rooney and ramble on about stuff that isn't under your control? Ever had one thooose dayz when you just have to laugh and say whatever, I guess I'll just have to deal with it?

I do and this is one of thooose dayz.

See the full Andy Rooney Moment@ http://mountaindouche.blogspot.com/

Got the Call

The game is afoot! I got the call this morning about Heprin and the pending surgery.

I should be in recovery by this time next Tuesday.

Merete will be sitting wringing her hands and I plan to be muttering about wanting to go home.

Tomorrow I meet with Dr. Pocock and then I'll go get my Heprin syringes. Pinch and Poke for the next seven days.


I should have 7 loonie sized bruises by this time next week.

Yahoooooo! The waiting will be over.