The Eyes Have It.

Earlier this summer I went to the eye doctor because I was due for an exam and check up.





I had noticed a few changes in my vision. While painting I spent good deal of the time bobbing and weaving like an aging prize fighter. This disrupts the flow of my work and annoys the heck out of me. The other thing that has happened since my original heart surgery is Gray Fuzz Outs. These Fuzz Outs don't hurt but can be annoying especially if you're driving. I loose the top of my vision. This can last from 2 minutes to 15 minutes. I described this problem to my Eye Doctor. He decided I should go to a specialist to have this checked out.

Three weeks ago I went to see the Specialist. He was an interesting 60 something fellow who likes musical theatre and performed his duties as if we were in some San Franciso play.

It can never be simple, have you ever noticed that? You can't get one referral you have to have a minimum of two. This last Thursday I went to Royal Jubilee Hospital to see two more specialist. Here's a question for you, Why is it always sunny and bright when they dilate your eyes? Is there some kind of secret deal set up with the weathermen to bring the sun out for eye dilation? Two times in a row, I kid you not, blazing sunlight. I digress.

So my two new friends first do a test to see if I will react to the phosphorus dye they plan to pump into my body. I passed the test. They then proceeded to take multiple pictures of my eyeballs following the dye in and out of the veins and arteries in my eyes. In between shots, we discussed dining options in Sooke (try Wasana's Thai Kitchen)and how busy the traffic was last Saturday.

After 15 minutes I was allowed to squint my way home, with the aid of the Danish Princess at the wheel. Besides the squinting, the other side effect was phosphorescent urine for 24 hours. This was useful during my 4am pee break.

I'll keep you posted once I get my results, in the meantime I continue bobbing and weaving my way through my current painting.

Spot Seen

Dick has a Spot. Dick has had a Spot for a long time.
In the spring on an unusually sunny warm day Dick
burnt Spot while sitting on the deck.



Spot appeared to go crazy and got bigger and looked weird. Dick went to see his friendly GP. The GP said "Just to be safe Dick, I think I'll send you to a specialist."

Months go by and Spot has gotten better. Whenever Dick goes out in the sunshine, he puts on a little SPF sun screen.

Finally Dick goes to the specialist. Dick showers, puts on a clean shirt, fresh socks and heads into town to see the Skin Doctor. Dick forgot something, can you guess what he forgot?

Dick gets called into the exam room. The New Skin Doctor with special magnifying glasses looks at Spot. "Hmmmm" He says, "Take off your shirt Dick." Dick complies. Then the New Skin Doctor says, "Drop your pants Dick and turn a round."

Dick hadn't listened to his Ol' Mom. Dick had forgotten to change his jeans and underwear. Dick felt like a Dick. Dick was very embarrassed.

Dick wanted to cry all the way home. When he got there Dick checked his underwear. Dick said, "Thank God no skid marks, I'll never do that again."

Dick is going out tomorrow to buy fresh underwear, t'shirt, jeans and a shirt for his Eye Doctor Appointment Friday. Dick isn't going to take anymore chances. Especially if he has to go to a Proctologist, he may even floss. Oh and Spot is okay, he needs to have a biopsy just to be safe. Dick will wear his new clothes on November 9th.

Dicks' Ol' Mom used to give him the same look as the Danish Princess in the photograph and say "Change your underwear before you go out, you'll thank me if you get hit a by a bus.......it could happen!"

September Update

After a serious prodding by daughter Janna, I have decided to write a little update.






Generally I am in good health and have had a pretty darn good summer.

This is the time of the year of course is when the doctors line up to poke and prod me, adjust medications and join the throng to pester me about my carefree life style.

My heart is still pounding away, my drugs are still messing with my digestive tract and I still get tired. I have cut down my naps quite a bit lately and only have one when I have done something stupid after the Danish Princess has gone to town. Things like cleaning the moss off the roof, tearing the bunkhouse apart and rebuilding the beds so it now sleeps three. Minor stuff that used to take half the time.

My schedule this month is today go to the Vet with Molly because her right leg is buggered up. Then on Saturday, Marc is coming over to watch the dogs overnight while the DP and I drive to Courtenay for a sleep over at Terry and Carole's place. Monday I am off to a skin specialist to have him look at the blotch on my cheek, because it looked weird back in April. On the 17th, I am off to an Eye Specialist to determine whether I will end up painting like Monet or Van Gogh. There will also be a visit near the end of the month to see my favourite GP.

Steady as she goes until November and I have my Electronic Tune-Up. If anything exciting or crazy comes up I will gladly share it with you all in great detail.

The News 5/28/10

Yesterday, I went to Royal Jubilee Hospital.
It was my 6 week surgery follow up.

It went well!






Apparently my read out is good, all the wires are working. I did have a little incident, at least I thought so. Well my incident wasn't recorded, I guess I just over did again. My old cardiologist Henderson said "If you push your heart too hard, it will push back." I am guessing I had a push back.

The only thing that was recorded was a minor incident on May 21st. That was the night I got pissed off and jumped up to sleep on the couch. Realizing that I would wake up crippled, I turned around and went back to bed. I think the actual reality of sleeping in the same room with 3 dogs was enough to send me back to bed. I wasn't really that mad and a good nights sleep is more important.

Bottom line, all is good.

You say Tomato and I say go .........Yourself

Sometimes you have to wonder where your doctor finished in his class. And sometimes you gotta wonder how much bureaucracy they have to put up with. Then you have ask yourself how much do I have to put up with from the whole system.

When I started this phase of my journey, I was an eager co-operative patient looking forward to a better life. By the time I got out of the hospital I was a less eager more angry Jackass that wanted to rip somebody a new one. Why? Let me elaborate.

I went in for what was described a day procedure. The worst case is I would stay over night. I don't like hospitals, it is filled with sick people who can make you sick. Knowing this I was fine with having to stay overnight as long the sick people would leave me alone and they gave me sleeping medication to dull the noise. (both externally and internally)

Tuesday surgery, stay overnight.....Wednesday Morning, oops.....you may have to stay another day. I have now met the Schnitzels, you gotta get me outta here starts to ring through my system. Why do I have to stay? My blood is not thin enough, I need more heparin. Thursday morning I have had 4 quarts of heparin plus 10+ mg of warfarin, by god my blood must be thin enough by now.

Noooo not yet so you ask the question "If I am taking warfarin at home and I have the $200 in inohep (self injecting heparin for home use) which the Doctors have made me buy, why can't I go home and do this instead of getting my blood thin here and being out $200 and having a bunch of heparin filled needles lying around for nothing?

Nurse response, "That's a good question, I'll ask."

By now I have seen, Novak briefly, Sullltan (the taper), the Irish Doctor Sulltan has dumped me onto, Vuurman (the new South African) and 2 or 3 other on call doctors who drift in and out of the wards.

The nurse comes back to say there is No, Novak, Sullltan, or Irishman to ask and there is only Vuurman and he will consult with head of the pharmacy Doctor Smith. Smith tells Vuurman, give him 10mg of warfarin and send him home but he has to have an INR test on Tuesday.

WooooHoooo ......but what's this........ Vuurman's name isn't on the release papers, it's Sullltan's name. Please refer to Friday April 16, Ever has one of those days.

By the time you figure out that you are going to be held prisoner because of bureaucracy it becomes clear that there is something you want to say. Thanks Nadia G from Bitchin' Kitchen for the quote when I needed one.

You say Tomato and I say go fuck yourself!!

If you're lucky like me you get to say this more than once maybe not with the same words slightly politer ones but the end effect is exactly the same.

That is exactly what I did on the Monday of my release. I used the polite words. After all you couldn't have found a doctor in this hospital and use the real phrase (This is weird because a hospital is where they work).

It wasn't the nurses' fault they were all just following orders.
(Hey wait a minute there should have been a historical note stuck in here referencing 1941 or 2.)

I say Tomato and you say .......................

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.