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
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
Lulu: “Dada’s write-up about his aneurysm continues over on his other blog this week!”
Charlee: “I don’t know why he even has another blog. Why does he need one when he has ours?”
Chaplin: “I think it’s so he can use bad language over there when he wants to. Sort of like HBO.”
I remember a little more from Friday, the day after my aneurysm ruptured. Not a lot more, but a little. I woke up in the hospital with no real idea exactly where I was, how I had gotten there, or how long I would be staying.
via The Event, Part 2
Lulu: “Our Dada is starting a series of posts over on his author blog about what happened to him back in November.”
Charlee: “This will explain why our blogs went on hiatus for a couple of months and, more importantly, why I went a couple of weeks without getting my lap time in his office.”
Lulu: “This is how it starts:”
So November 7th, 2019, was the day I could have died three different ways before breakfast.
Chaplin: “It’s not the usual stuff, but we thought it might be helpful to anyone who experiences the same sort of symptoms Dada did.”
via The Event, Part 1
THE FOLLOWING IS A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT
Hello, stuffie friends. My name is Blue Dog, and I am here with a cautionary tale about choosing a surgeon for your operation.
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