Cross-Post: The Event, Part 6

Lulu: “Our Dada has posted the final installment of his series about what happened during and after his ruptured cerebral aneurysm.”

Although I had been discharged, that wasn’t the end of the recovery process. As previously noted, I had to stay on the nimodipine for another three weeks, which meant waking up every four hours to take two gigantic pills. I’ve never had so many alarms set on my phone in my life. (The tone I chose for these alarms was the “Barking Dog” sound, because that was the least jolting one I could find. After 20 years of having dogs around, you get used to all the barking.)

Charlee: “Hey what’s that about getting used to all the barking?”
Lulu: “I’m sure I have no idea.”

via The Event, Part 6

Cross-Post: The Event, Part 5

Lulu: “Dada has posted another entry in his series about his ruptured cerebral aneurysm in November.”
Chaplin: “This is Part 5, AKA ‘The One Where Dada Gets Discharged From The Hospital’.”
Charlee: “Ooh, that’s my favorite one.”
Lulu: “Mine too!”

Once I was well enough to leave ICU, the hospital transferred me to the “step-down unit”, also called Telemetry. (If you never heard of a unit called “Telemetry”, you’re not the only one.) I was moved by wheelchair on Saturday evening, schlepping most of my stuff—my blanket and pillow from home, the get well cards I had accumulated, the posters made by our friends’ daughter, pictures of the animals, and, of course, Substitute Charlee—on my lap. The rest of the stuff was transported in a bag by a courier, A.K.A. my wife.

via The Event, Part 5

Cross-Post: The Event, Part 4

Lulu: “Dada has posted the next installment of his series from when he was in the hospital.”
Chaplin: “Hey, look, Charlee, Substitute Charlee is back.”
Charlee: “There is no substitute for me!”

I was in the ICU for a total of nine days while they kept my blood pressure very tightly controlled and checked me daily for vasospasms. (They got a concerning doppler reading one time, so off I went with Substitute Charlee for another CT scan; it did show vasospasms were occurring, but I remained asymptomatic, and scanned clean the next day.) My cousins and a few friends continued to drop by to keep me company, which was nice, and I had a series of terrific ICU nurses to take care of me. After a few days in ICU they decided to take out my IV and put in a subclavian PICC line, so they could administer medications and draw blood without having to stick me all the time. That was a relief, although the process of getting it put in was far from fun. Once the PICC line was there I mostly forgot about it; funny what you can get used to when you have to, and when the alternative is multiple jabs with sharp pointy objects.

via The Event, Part 4