Help, My Head is Falling!

Monday night was really rough, as it always is until Monday Night Football returns. But it was a lot worse this time. It was really hard to breathe, I felt hot and shaky, and my head was splitting open. About 4 am, I finally thought to take my temperature, and it read 102.4. I took a couple Tylenol, .5 ml of morphine to calm my breathing, and put on my BiPap machine. It’s a little weird trying to watch CNBC while wearing that contraption, so I just lay there shaking. At the time, I didn’t care about the stock market, anyway. At about 7:30, I woke up my wife. My temp was still over 102, and I felt worse, not better. Help!

So here comes my savior! My wife got me a blanket to stop me shivering, helped me with another dose of morphine, got me fresh water, and then she called the hospice people. I don’t recall exactly what happened at the time, but as it turns out, my nurse, Kathy, was the “early person” or something. So I was lucky. When she arrived, she even had all the medicine I needed! Still had a temp, although down to 101.7, but now I had antibiotics. Kathy and my wife (and our dogs) made me comfy and I then spent the day trying to get better. COPD and lung infections don’t play well together.

So now it’s 12:15 am, Wednesday morning. It’s hard to type on my iPad while wearing my BiPap, but I just feel like blogging, and I’m not tired anyway. If I learned anything, it’s this:

1. I’m stubborn. I suppose I suffer in peace or whatever you’d call it. Also, I didn’t want to wake up my wife, which upsets her because obviously she would rather come to my aid. Now that’s stubborn. Or stupid.

2. It’s really hard to meditate when you feel as bad as I did. It worked for a few minutes, and made it a little better, but I guess I’ll save it for the real deal.

3. If I don’t make it, I’d rather it be right here in my room, in my hospice hospital bed, with my wife at my side. And maybe Pippen on the bed, with Kori looking out the window.

4. My nurse is a great nurse, and my wife is a great wife. I’m lucky. One of these days, the infection will be worse, and I won’t make it. But I’ll still be lucky.