CHAPTER 210 IMPRESSIONS OF MY LIFE: AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RECHERCHE POET. THE PRISONER OF C. DIFF. 2016

 CHAPTER 210 THE PRISONER OF C. DIFF.  2016 

I was placed in a bed in a fairly large room. I was alone, nobody occupied the one other bed. I wanted to call my wife, but I could not. The telephone for the room was at least one bed length away where I could not reach it.  There were a number of things hanging on all the walls. Far down the landscape a wall of windows. They started about waist high off the floor and ran almost  to the ceiling. I could not see much out of them from my bed except some distant trees and a patch of sky.

To my right were some more window through which I could see some Wilmington Buildings. There was a TV I could watch on the opposite wall. The remote was tied to these rails along the top of my bed. There was also a long cord with a button at the end. This was the call button.  Press it and a nurse appeared.

In the first two days I wore that button and some nurses out.

When even a bowel movement hit me and they hit me a lot at the beginning I would have to press the button and summon someone with a bedpan.  Natured called often and insistently.

The first time I tried to get out of the bed thinking I could use the restroom down at the lower side of the room.  WRONG!  As soon as I put a leg outside the mattress an alarm sounded above the bed. It repeated itself over and over and it was loud. When it sounded it seemed nurses and aids came from  everywhere. They surrounded me. One turned off the horn and others pushed me back into the borders of my bed.

I was not aloud to get up, and certainly not allowed to reach the freedom of the hall.  I was toxic. Bedpan or mess was what I lived with for two days. I was a prisoner.  Every time I had to go, with seemed to occur every quarter of an hour or less, I had to ring the bell and a couple nurses would come, one carrying the bedpan, the  other with armloads of bed clothes.  They would wait for an all clear from me and then go into action. 

The one would roll me on my side and take the now full pan away. She would inspect the contents as she carried it to the bathroom, flushed everything away and washed the pan.

Meanwhile the other nurse would keep me up on my side while she wiped me. You quickly give up your dignity when someone must wipe your rear every time you go to the toilet. It is very undignified.  She wouldn’t also wash me off and spear on some cream., before putting on a new  diaper and fresh gown.

The two of them would then strip the bed and change the
sheets, blankets and the pad I lay upon. They would do this by rolling me to one side until done that half a bed, then toll me the other way. 

After two days of this I looked over and they rolled a commode chair Ito my room new the door.

  What a welcome sight. I was off the bedpan parade. I was now permitted to use a commode chair, but not without guards. My movements were lessening, but when they came I still had to call for the nurses. They would come, turn off the alarm and helped off the bed. They would escort me to the waiting throne and help me sit, then everybody waiting.

When I indicated the inevable was  happened, they helping back to my
feet. Now I was turned around and held upright while me hither regions were wiped, washed and powdered.  One of the nurses would rearrange the bed and both would help me back onto the new sheets and pad.

Now you may ask, what about my dress. Well that consisted of a new diaper and gown once I was back in bed. My dirty diaper had been stripped off before I was placed on the chair and a clean replacement not put on me before I was walk back and helped into the bed. In that short transfer I was exosed to the world. The gown was of no consequence anyway. It was never cashed behind and would constantly riding up until only about me shoulders.  So, hello world! 

Most of my stay I was married to a plastic urinal bottle. Even after they brought in the commode chair it was limited for heavy duty only. Urinating was a much more frequent necessity.  The use of such a device was a new skill to learn when you are lying flat in a bed.

The nurses would empty it often, much to my gratitude.
Each time  they would hold it to the light and see how large my deposit was. One day the nurse did so and after a couple times told me I wasn’t producing enough. If I could produce more volume they were going to have to catheterize me.  I had never experience this but had heard horror stories.

I would rather not learn about it first hand. I realize people do this up to a point as a sexual practice called sounding, still I would rather skip all  that. I thus began concentration on my urination, hoping to be a better producer and apparently I succeeded. The nurse smiled and said “good boy” and the word catheterize never came up again.

By day 7 it was decided I could be released.   I was upend anxious for Los to pick me up. We had to wait a long time to leave because they insisted I ride to the front door in a wheelchair.

They were very insistent on this, but there was a shortage of wheelchairs and wheelchair pushers, so we had to wait and wait. Finally s fellow showed up and I was wheeled outside of the hospital. There I was kicked out of the chair and left on my own while the pusher returned the chair inside.

I was home about a week when I was attacked by C. Diff again and went right back not the hospital for a week. Except this time I was in  Cristiana Hospital.

Once more free of hospital bed with alarms I had to visit the Department of infectious Diseases.

 

CHAPTER 209 IMPRESSIONS OF MY LIFE: AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RECHERCHE POETEVERY OLOGIST BUTA GYNACOLOGIST 2016

CHAPTER 209 EVERY OLOGIST BUT A GYNECOLOGIST? 2016

Resting, even sleeping that night, did not change anything. I still had the strange vibrations in my legs and arms and my toes still pointed outward and I still shuffled with a strange gain when I walked. I had some  upcoming doctor’s appointments; you know how it is, you visit a specialist once and they have you in their net and insist you revisit them every six months no matter how you feel.  I visited with my nephrologist, who I inherited once because my thyroid problems had once distorted a CKD test. I had to go back regularly, although he saw nothing threatening. This was how it was with them all. See them once; see them forever more. Next was a urologist. My prostate was slightly enlarged, but again no threat. But he still wanted to pull on that glove occasionally. Then I went to my Rheumatologist.  I did and do have psoriatic arthritis and get a few painful moments, but the biggest benefit of him putting me on Methotrexate  was the side effect — it cleared up my skin. If I miss taking it my body breaks out in red patches and white plaque. Ugh!

But none of these fellows had anything to say about my gait

or  tingling. Nothing to do but make an appointment with my primary physician. I seldom see this doctor. It is usually a nurse practitioner who sees me. But this time the big guy himself came into the examination room. 

I had the sniffles, which I get every Spring when the trees begin to grow leaves again. He hears my sniffle and grabs his electronic pad and sends a prescription off to my pharmacy. He then gets up and starts to go from my presence.

“Wait,” I call. “That wasn’t why I came here.”

“He sat back down. I want to know why I walk this way.”  I stood and  walked across the room and back.

“Hmm,” he said. “I have no idea.” 

Now he is writing orders for me to Get blood tests (doctors love sticking needles in you) and orders for certain specialists. I was to see my cardiologist and  a neurologist, I was ending up seeing every kind of Ologist

except a Gynecologist.  At one point down this trail I even conferred with my oldest daughter, who is a VetTech, so in a way I even got into Veterinarian medicine (I don’t know if there is an ology for that).

No one could say what was going on.

I passed all the cardiology tests, no blockages or anything. I was sent to take an MRI. 

I went to a imaging place. I was wearing my usual summer gear, a T-shirt, shorts and sneakers. The lady technician led me to a small cubicle, handed me a hospital gown and told me to take everything off except my underpants.

“Oh,” I told her. “I’m not wearing any underpants”

.

“Then we have a problem,” she said.

“I don’t think so I mean these shorts are like boxers. Why can’t I just wear them?

She thought about it and agreed that would be okay.  I lay
on a tray  and it slid back into this tube. “I am right outside,” she said. “We can talk. There is also a panic button near your head if necessary.”

Even being in that confined space for an hour I felt no need for the panic button. 

There were no problems brought to light at the Cardiologists. I called for an appointment at the Neurologist my Primary had suggested, and I got one, but not until in October. This was June. 

Do I just wait, nervously twirling thumbs that are resisting twiddling?

No something else had arisen…or should I say dropped.

I had gotten and taken the antibiotic pills my Primary had
prescribed. They were called CEFDINIR.  I was to take in capsule by mouth every 12 hours, which is how I began.  This is a cephalosporin antibiotic given to treat used to treat bacterial infections and He prescribed it to me because I was sniffling slightly when I came into his office. No questions, no exam, just an order off to my pharmacy. I was supposed to take until the bottle I was given was empty. I was given 20 doses of capsules each containing 300. It should not be taken if you are using magnesium, which I was, but no one asked or told me do not combine.

There were listed some possible side effect: headache nausea, vomiting and stomach pain, none of which I got. Vaginal itching or diaper rash, no worry there. 

Far down the list, under rare was something called Clostridiun Difficile. Never heard of it and it said rare, so not gaining to worry about it. I  could barely pronounce it.

But, Ah ha, diarrhea!  Knew about that, but wasn’t usually bothered by it.

During that first week on CEFDINER (it always seems to be capitalized) I went to Lois to the super market. There use to be a Pathmark we frequented and there we went. I did feel real great and decided to wait in the car while she shopped. It was summer
and got pretty hot in  the car and I began to feel something pressing in my abdomen. I had to go to the bathroom, but felt I could hold it until she came back. Except it was taking a long time for her to shop and not a long time for this pressure to go.

  

A lot of thing went from bad to worse now. The diarrhea seemed just one of those things, a kind of bug that bites one sometimes. But then that week I was in the kitchen and felt woozy. I fell over and landed on the floor and I could not get myself up. Laurel came out and Lois and Laurel both star ed to lift me. Finally I ask them to push a kitchen chair near me  and after a struggle I was able to pull up enough to sit on the chair.

Lois called the Great Primary and we heard those favored

words, “ Go into the hospital emergency room.”

I got my trusty walking stick and with some effort stood up and walked out to the car. Lois drove and we went into the parking area behind  Wilmington Hospital’s emergency section. I grabbed my stick and with Lois’ help mangled to get inside to the registry window.

Little story about this stick. It was customer made by an artisan in Phoenixville. My parents give it to us on our 25th wedding anniversary in 1987. It was strictly decorative then It was upon it the wedding date and then our names. I displayed it in all our homes as we moved around, but did not use it. I didn’t need it. Now I did, as I aged, and I used it on all my hikes. It would come to play a very important roll in my life in the coming years.

They call these planned “Emergency” but they don’t seem
to know the definition of the word. You heart could be busting out of your chest, but you are still going to be directed into the  ‘emergency” waiting room and their you wait while your hair turns gray.  The emergency room was pretty full, with people constantly coming in. Occasionally the door would open far enough for a head to poke through and call a name. Then someone would get up and follow he head into the back.

The head was not calling my name.

But nature was being to call very frantically. I got up.

“I got to go find the rest room,” I told my wife and started off. To where I don’t know. I could not find the restroom. They had hid it. The restroom was down some hidden hallway and I could not find it. This may have been the waiting room, but things were not waiting. I could feel the  icky crawl down my legs. I stepped faster, but the restroom eluded me. Here, there, I tried every direction and finally in it’s hidden above I spoted it was dashed forward.

It was marked by one of those all-inclusive restroom signs. I didn’t care, whoever might be in there better stand aside because I was going in.

The room was empty, thank God! I dashed into the first stalk I saw, leaving a real behind. I was there a while and there was toilet paper, and I used a lot. 

When I came out my wife was there to grab me. “They’ll
take you now,” she said, and led we to a manned window. Now I knew how to get quick service in an emergency room, Just act upon your immediate emergency. As I approached the window I looked toward the waiting room. There was a somewhat chagrined housekeeper mopping the floor.

I am now rushed along. A gurney and a couple orderlies magically  appear and I am raised by these guys and placed on the cart. I am left behind a curtain in a cubical, placed upon an examination table.  Lois has followed and taken seat along the wall, I can see hustle and bustle of medical staff through the part in the curtain. A nurse enters. She has an electric I-pad she is reading from.

An aid accompanies her. This second woman pulls off all my soiled clothes and drops them in a bag that she hands Lois. The aid get a basic and sponges me off and helps me struggle into the dreaded hospital  gown.

The nurse now asks questions read from her i-Pad as the aid leaves. Usual stuff. Name, address, age, medical history and the all important health insurance numbers.

My wife has my numbers. She reads the card to the nurse.

The nurse takes my vitals. I am apparently alive.

“The doctor will be with you shortly. Are you warm enough? Would you like a blanket?”

She brings we a blanket as she leaves.

We lie there. Neither of us say a thing.

A young man in scrubs with a stethoscope drape about his
neck comes through the curtain followed by the nurse.

“Hello, I’m doctor something-or-other. Can you stand.”

I try and can’t. He takes my vitals. The nurse puts an IV in the back of my left hand. She takes my vitals again and asks if I am thirsty, I am, and she brings me some water.  

Doctor Doogie is asking me how I feel and what happened and why did I come to the hospital and again if I can stand.

I struggle and the nurse helps me to my feet. The doctor asked me to walk. I can’t and sit down on the bed.

“All right, Mr. Meredith. We can’t allow you to go home until you can show us you’re capable of walking. We will leave you and then come back and see if you can.”

They leave Lois and I. It seems as if they are gone for hours, but most likely was twenty minutes. Both of them return. She is typing notes into her i-Pad. He checks my vitals. She helps me to my feet and I take a few wobbly steps. I fear I might starting going again, but I don’t. I stagger back to the bd and sit.

“We are going to admit you,” he says. 

Lois stands, holding the bag, “I’m going on home she says.”

“Fine” 

An orderly with a gurney pops in and I am loaded on and
take another fast trip down hallways only seeing the overhead lights flash past.

CHAPTER 208 IMPRESSIONS OF MY LIFE: AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RECHERCHE POET WHAT IS THIS MAGIC IN YOUR WALK? 2016

 CHAPTER 208 WHAT IS THIS MAGIC IN YOUR WALK? 2016

 

When my parents were dying I began to use Bellevue a lot for my walks.  By 2016, I was using this park quite a bit. It opened early in the morning and I was able to configure a 5+ mile course through it.  

I had divided it into four quarters each having several
stations.  I could now vary my cat about, going into a differed quadran as my entry point. Even though I was walking the same paths, they seem more varied  by the way I entered the park proper from the parking lot. 

On the turn from May to June of 2016 I choose to enter by what
I called the first quatrain. I parked and walked the curvy main walkway up the hill to the  front of the Mansion went around it walking the path about its back yard

then started down the hill side the meadow. This is where they hold events such as the Ice Cream Festival year-end and year-out. I would walk the paved path down the hill, cross the entry road to walk the paved  path back up the hill to the parking lot. I would cross the low, go up more hill in the drive to the Carriage House lot and thus begin the second quatrain of my journey…except…

As I went down the meadow path almost even to the Praying Rock I felt an odd sensation in both arms and leg. Can’t quite describe it, but  a-sudden my legs wouldn’t work right.  I could only step in short little shuffles and looking down I saw my feet were splayed with the toes pointing outward.  If they had

been pigeon—toed, that is, pointed inward I would have had a great chance of falling. The duck-toes kept me somewhat balanced, but did not help my walking. 

I shuffled on down the path. I thought this might quickly go away and I was thinking of finishing the four miles left on my walk. After all, I had been at this walking thing for many, many years and besides I was a man who was told you worked through your pain. 

I limped across the entry drive and began shuffling up
toward the parking lot. Nothing was changing in my body. There was still the strange tingling in my arms and in my legs. My toes would not straighten out and men, oh man, even the parking lot looked miles away.  How would I make it another four miles. I thought it might be best to get in my car, if I could reach it, drive home and rest.

This is what I did. I drove home and lay on the sofa and rested. Nothing changed. I got up and humbled about, and nothing changed. I went to bed that night and slept, but come morning nothing had changed. The time had come to see a sawbones and ask what was going on with my limbs.

CHAPTER 207 IMPRESSIONS OF MY LIFE: AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A RECHERCHE POET RING IN A STRANGE NEW YEAR 2016

 CHAPTER 207 RING IN A STRANGE NEW YEAR 2016

 

New Year’s Day 2016 began in a fog, a dreary morning. It was not much different than many before. I was at dawn for my morning walk. I went to  Brandywine Creek State park, my favorite place to hike.  It was cold. There were ice flows on the Brandywine.

Still patches left from a recent snow. I loved walking in such  weather.

On the 23rd we were hit with a blizzard. I spent part of the day shoveling out the drive and sidewalk. 

Darryl showed up on the

26th and Lois and I spent the day babysitting Jasper. He had been born on June 6, 2014, so now in January 2016 he was around a year and half old. 

 

Lois went into Christiana Hospital to have her first knee replacement on January 28. Dr Crane was the urgent and it was said he was the best. He did a good job.The other knee would  eventually have to be replaced, but it was decided to only do one at a time.

She was in great amount of pain during her rehab, but
fortunate to have a patient and friends physical therapist coming  to our house from Bayada, our first experience with that outfit, but not our last. By January 29 the hospital had her up

walking with a walker (I had to pay $100 for that thing).  On March 1 she took her first walk outside just using a cane. We went  over to Bonsall Park for her solo.

On March 8 it was like

summer out, 70 degrees, and I took my long walk over at Bellevue visiting the horse paddocks. 

On the March 31 we visited a friend of Ron Tipton named Don McKenzie, who lived in a co-op in downtown  Philadelphia.  Out on the street, Ronald insisted we dicve to Christiana Mall and  have my photo taken in front of White House/Black Market. This was the last place I had worked and I retired afterward at age 70.

It was shaping up too be a great year as Lois and I visited
Rehoboth Beach for the day on May 9.  Lois walking up the boardwalk toward the famous Dolle’s Salt Water Taffy store. 

We had lunch in a small restaurant along the Boardwalk. It was a nice little cafe, but I had to use the men's room and it was total mess.

There was a scandal at the SPCA where Laurel worked and it looked as if it was going t close the shelter in Stanton and move all the animals to Georgetown.  

Laurel had to end new employment, which she quickly did
going back to the Delaware Humane Association, but Laurel was concerned with a very shy cat she had been working with named Giselle.

 Giselle had come to the SPCA with her brother, a male
named Tom Cat Brady. They named Giselle after Quarterback Tom Brady.  Laurel feared Giselle would regress if she were moved. Lois then went and adopted her and she is still shy, but has come a long way.

  

I was doing my routine, yard work and  everything seemed to be going along just swimmingly.

Then then it wasn't

.

I was walking a lot over at Rockwood, a  county park about four miles away. I had started going there a lot during 2012 when my parents were on their last legs. It was near by, had plenty of paths, scenery, history and it opened at dawn, not at 8:00 AM like most of the other venue

When you become a regular at a place you begin to know

many of the other regular and they grow to know you.  First hit would be a nodding acquaintance, but as the weeks passed you would often stop and have conversation. Such as I had with Keven, who early on Sundays walk his three dogs (Later four).

There the three-legged dog Karma.

There were a  number I grew close to, but I didn’t always know their name so I would have a nickname for everyone, although I never actually called them by this to their face. The names were descriptive, but some might have been a bit offensive. 

For instance there was Ed, whose name I did learn, and his wife, Twisted Mouth. I don’t if she had once had a stroke, but her mouth was very distorted, although she spoke well enough. They were constant hikers, going  to different locale for long foot journeys, usually with their two dogs, an elderly German Shepherd and a small dog that was crazy, literally.

Some of whom I met early and saw the most were the Grandmother, mother and later daughter.  The younger woman, the granddaughter had been  in the Peace Corp, but when her hitch ended she was along with the other two.  The dog was a mop with feet named Mia. At first Mia just barked at me, but later she looked forward to seeing me, because I would scratch her back and she loved that.  The older women was 80 years old and in the last year I saw her had been ailing. Then the old woman didn’t come and soon after they all disappeared, so my guess is the grandmother passed away.

One of the regulars spooked me at first. He came each morning in a  white car, but often parks in a different spot. I never saw him walk. He would just park, get out of his car and smoke. I do mean smoke. He always was surrounded by a cloud. I called him the Puffer. One morning I was driving in and he passed me driving out, but he turned around and followed my up the entry road. I thought he was some kind of security, but one morning I spoke to him and he said he always stopped in the park to smoke before going to work.  It relaxed him.

I knew so many. There was a man who walked him old dog Tucker, same name as my dog.

There was Dallas. Which I found odd, not the man, the name. I had a good friend, a poet, also named Dallas. To know two people living in Delaware named Dallas seemed unlikely, but there it as. Dallas had a very old big white dog named Sam. Sam died one Christmas Day and Dallas no longer walked the park. I did see him a couple times afterward riding a bike through.

There was a man I called The Pumper, because he always violently pumped his arms as he walked. He later shifted to skies, pulling himself up and down a small hill with sticks. I then called hi the Poler (I never got his picture.)

Once there was the ghostly Women In White, who came like an apparition near the lake.

I passed almost every day a woman I knew as sore foot, because she always walked like her feet hurt, she came to walk then go to a Gym to workout. I don't think her tosses hurt at all.

There was an elderly thin man who came all the time with huge dog, a Mastiff perhaps, named Brutus.  The dog not the man. I don't know what his name was. I know he lived across the street from the park.  Occasionally his wife are instead, but she had difficulty handling Brutus.

There was an Asia women who lived across another street from the park. She came with a dog and  a toy that the dog would chase. I only saw her in winter when I was all bundled up. One January we had a summer-like day, warm enough I only wore shorts and a T-shiirt when I passed her on a trail.

She paused for a moment, the said this, "I didn't recognize you without clothes on."  

I became very close to a young lady, who worked at the University, named Polly. She always walked a white dog with black spots named Iggy. It was funny, because Iggy was a cartoon character who had a pet parrot named Polly.   She probably wonders what happened to me now

Another I became quite close too was Hope. It was awhile before I  learned her name, I always referred to her as The Cane Lady because she carried a cane on her walks. We stopped

and talked one day and I found she was a very sweet and  kind Christian lady, who went to church in Wilmington. I also discovered every morning she went into the meadow to a large flat rock to face the sun and pray.  I named it The Player Rock. Keep it in mind, it will play a part in my next chapter.

 

In April of 2016 there was a sudden mystery. I came for my walk and on every trail was this face, reminding me a bit of Einstein, with the work Essere beneath it. It was everywhere you looked. What did it  mean? The word itself is an Italian verb meaning be or become. But why was it here?

I didn’t know then and I don’t know now. I just know that in 2016 this appeared everywhere in Rockwood Park.

The biggest mystery would soon begin.