from the porches

a quack

After I returned from Louisville and embraced my new mantra, "Nevermore", I decided to take care of this caregiver after the past three years.  Actually, what really happened, was I woke up on Wednesday morning with a terrible lung pain.  I knew I had pneumonia.  I just knew it.  I couldn't get comfortable.  The pain in my left lung ached so bad. 

Instead of calling my regular doctor in Gainesville, believing it would take weeks to see her; I went to a local quack.  "I think I have pneumonia," I told him.  He listened to my heart and back, unsnapped my bra and listened further down.  I immediately said, "If you unsnap that bra, you have to fix it back!  And I meant it, too.  But, he didn't fix it.

Dr. Quack told me I did not have pneumonia and he wasn't sending me home with a Z-Pac.  "But, what about my pain?" I asked.  He said he couldn't find anything wrong with me; however, he did want to do a battery of tests on me and have me answer survey questions. 

"Okay."  Stupid me!  The survey consisted of diabetes, smoking, surgeries, and sexual activity.  "I have no sexual activity," I said.  "Why?" he asked.  "Because my husband is in a nursing home!"  And then the other tests proceeded: an EKG. . . a hearing test . . .a breathing test..., etc.

When I got ready for the X-rays, the quack asked, "Are you pregnant?"  I wanted to say, "Are you STUPID?" 

"No, I'm not pregnant," I answered.  "How do you know?" the Quack asked.  And I looked him in the eyes and said, "BECAUSE I'M NOT HAVING SEX!"    His reply, "But you are such a beautiful woman."   And then I thought, "I want out of here!"

In the end, the Quack learned I have a hearing loss.  Good grief!  I've had a hearing loss since I was a child!  I also learned my left knee, for God's sake, was not swollen.  Well, no!  I haven't lifted a wheelchair into the Acadia since March 14.  My liver is good.  Good news there.  My lungs are iffy. 

Wait.  I think I went to the quack because I felt like something was wrong with my left lung.  Odd.  I guess all of those thirty years of smoking has made an impact on my lungs, or it just could be Clay's second-hand smoke.

Oh, well.  I talked to Sherry that afternoon and she said, "I had a rough night last night.  My right lung hurt so bad I did not get a good night's sleep."  At which point, I said, "I woke up this morning with my left lung hurting so bad.  So bad, in fact, I went to a Quack!" 

Then Sherry reminded me we were "mirror twins" and it all fell into place.  Tomorrow, I am getting my records from the Quack and going to my regular doctor in Gainesville.  I dread it because she will refer me to get a mammogram, a colonoscopy, etc.    I haven't been to my doctor since March 2010 when Mom got her cancer.

But, it is now "my time". 

 

Nevermore

I went to my psychologist today and she said, "You seem different.  What's going on?"

"I am different," I answered; and then began to tell her about the past week with me being in Kentucky at a time when my family needed me and my daughter, Merry Jennifer, the most.

Dr. Bishop noticed I wasn't shaking anymore... the tremors I had developed over the past year and a half of being a care-giver to Truett, especially, and Mom, plus the cats and dogs and Clay.  No, after visiting my family at Uof L Hospital, after receiving hugs from family and even friends I didn't know, I came to realize that my life was beginning to change.  I didn't really know it until the drive home to Fort White.

 

For a couple of years I heard, "Care-givers die before the person they're caring for."  Right.  Right.  Okay.  But, I kept on trying to do it all and it damn near broke me.  I'm sure Merry Jennifer noticed she was with  one shaking, wobbly woman.  Her mother.  I must praise MJ here.  She interpreted the "Doctor-leaze".  When the doctors left the room, the family looked at Merry Jennifer and said, "OK.  What's he really saying?"

Hours spent in the hospital.  Hours spent feeling the love of family.  That's what did it.  When Merry Jennifer and I landed back in Gainesville, I was exhausted; but in my soul I whispered, "Nevermore!"

P.S. My twin, Sherry is going to be my "snow bird".  We're going to track those Whooping Cranes when they fly to Florida next year!  (That was on my bucket list)