Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Wednesday August 12th, 2009, morning

I’m woken up a few times in the early morning. I’m totally confused every time. Part of me just doesn’t believe this is real. Am I on a reality show? Candid camera?

There’s a Tori Amos quote that comes to mind
This is not really happening.
You bet your life it is

I know that I still feel like myself because I want food. I still haven’t had dinner from last night and now I’m ready for breakfast. I get a tiny bit of applesauce.

At 8:00 I’m wheeled to the MRI. A bunch of years back a friend of mine had an MRI and told me he freaked out in the middle because it felt like a coffin. Based on that, I’m expecting to be put into some sort of dark closed tube. The machine is not half as intimidating as I expected. It’s a lot like the CAT Scan machine, the donut is just a little deeper and the noise louder. But, I can listen to music!

I select “Big Band” and “Holiday Tunes.” What else would you want to listen to at 8:15 in the morning? During the MRI I resist the urge to tap my feet but otherwise I enjoy the challenge of trying to keep still.

I get a look at my brain on the way out but no CD this time. Darn.

I return to the ICU and they hook me back up again. At a loss for what to do, I log onto work e-mail. Remember that despite the presence of the blood I feel perfectly fine. Andrea and Barb both scold me for it. I’m just grasping for some sense of normalcy, really.

I jump on IM with Diane. I tell her what's up and she has a good understanding of what's going on and gives me some information. How did my roommate get so smart about this? Study overnight for me? Her job, actually. This is the first time of many Diane comforts me through this.

Diane is also trying to retrieve her car from McKinney. She cannot understand any of the directions Adam has given her. I jump onto Google maps, take a screen grab, paste it into PowerPoint, mark it with arrows and write a little note about navigating the parking garage. Rod, are you impressed? I navigated PowerPoint from the Intensive Care Unit. I’ve come so far.

I get an e-mail from a friend who informs me he had blueberries for lunch. This matters because Blueberries are a SuperFood and I'm all about SuperFoods (everyone has their own of saying feel better).

I write back

“These bitches won't let me eat anything. Let alone SuperFoods. So eat up on my behalf.”

Teri and Adam come by for a bit. At this stage we agree that it’s time to notify the parents. I give Teri the honors. We start with Dad & Emily. They had sent me flowers and a balloon for my birthday. I tell them they ought to just send a replacement balloon to cover off on “get well’ wishes.

When I talk to my dad he asks “Can you fly?” (family vacation in August). I love my dad. He thinks just like me.

I try to sleep but I just can’t do it with Teri and Adam sitting there watching me.

I always feel like somebody’s watching me.

And the MRI results are in. And they’re inconclusive. Er. So what now? A cerebral angiogram. What the hell is that?

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