See these two pictures? They were taken the Saturday before last. Scott and I went for a walk at County Farm Park. It was a gorgeous day. I felt great.
When I visit this park, I always take some time to admire the farm plots people have been carefully tending all summer. If my sister lived here, I'm sure she would have one of these plots - she has one in Glasgow!
Anyway - a lovely day. Never felt better.
That night, I got a head cold. The next morning, it was a chest cold. By nightfall, it had sunk into the chest. By the wee hours of the morning, I couldn't breathe. I was panting just trying to get air into my lungs. Finally, I gave up, and Scott took me to the hospital.
At the E.R., I inhaled the vaporized albuterol treatments until I was starting to feel better. But then, just as the main doctor on duty came by to check on me, my blood pressure fell to 55/33 and I passed out. With a steroid drip, of course, I came around tidily and was feeling just fine not too long thereafter. But concerns had been awakened at that point. And instead of being sent home, I was, to my astonishment, admitted to the hospital.
They wheeled me up to the eleventh floor, where the view was fabulous, and where I was soon informed that the chest x-ray left no doubt. I had pneumonia.
I got cosy in my super-adjustable hospital bed, and Scott brought me my electronic gadgetry and a favorite blanket.
Once I was off the drip, I spent a good amount of time in one of these comfortable chairs, gazing out at the green expanses below. Scott spent time there, too, preparing classwork and just keeping me company.
I had a delightful flat-screen TV to amuse me, too. I'm telling you, this was a luxury spa weekend! If I didn't have a hospital gown on and a variety of shots, drugs, breathing treatments, and drips being administered every hour or so, I would have considered it a vacation.
In fact, it sort of was. It was a very peaceful place, and I spent time watching clouds and birds of prey drifting in the sky outside my window. The nurses and techs could not have been more friendly. They were also very patient. Jacked up as I was on oxygen, albuterol, and steroids, I kept assertively informing them that I would be going to work the next day! They smiled and nodded and somehow resisted telling me to shut up and stop making uninformed medical decisions.
As it happened, even after I was sent home, the doctor wouldn't let me go back to work until the following Monday. I went home with drugs of various stripes and even my very own nebulizer - oooo! I feel as though I'm in a hookah bar when I use that.
But I'm fine now. Feeling good. Feeling grateful.
Oh, and I can taste and smell things like never before. Seriously. I must have had a good amount of gunk in there clogging things up, maybe for years! Scott made basil and garlic spinach, not something I would normally get particularly excited about - and the flavors amazed me. I bought a peanut cluster at Kilwin's Chocolates and it sent me spiralling into tastebud bliss! And as for the margherita pizza at Mani Osteria last night, where we went as a special treat to celebrate my recovery... there are no words.
So - all is well. The adventure is over. (Until the bills start arriving, but let's not think about that.) I wrote a thank-you note to the fabulous staff members of my hospital floor, and I will remember them and indeed the entire experience with gratitude.
Here's a health!
