We're still alive!

I've written of ADLs, activities of daily living. It is the difference between a senior successfully managing life at home, or not. I was proud of myself. We NEVER put out garbage out the night before garbage day. I had to. I couldn't face the stress of doing that Monday morning with my fatigue and coughing. Out it went in the secure can. You just can't put kitchen garbage out with bears, raccoons, and coyotes. I had to this once.

All was well. No mess. WHEW!

 

It is wonderful being outside, at least. 

The wild Oregano is full of insects. If I had more energy (I was up coughing twice last night) I'd figure out this first one. The second is obvious.

Look what Merlin told me was out back: a Black-billed Cuckoo! 

COVID UPDATE: Sunday night I actually slept through the night. JB not so much. It is interesting that it attacks my weakest part, my lungs. Joe's is his nose, and his faucet continues to leak. It seems to me that COVID is attacking us in our weak spots. I have always gotten bronchitis when I had a bad cold. Joe's nasal passages, hay fever and such, is his weak point.

Monday was the last day for my Paxlovid pills. Also the last day of Joe's Lyme Disease meds, Doxycycline. I'm drinking a ton of water. It really helps. He was supposed to be checked by the doctor this morning, but that ain't happening.

Poor JB is having two naps a day. Monday, after dinner, I could not stop the coughing. Hawking up cloudy phlegm over the back deck railing – so as not to freak out Joe. I'd clear it, then sit back down. Three times. At this point I figured I best be seen by someone. Is this bronchitis or what? 

I dialled 9-1-1. The dispatcher was kind and demonstrated caring.

The female paramedic, an experienced one, was wonderful and took a full history, as well as the meds I was on. In hindsight that spared them in the ER. They were slammed. She handed in my health card, and all I had to do at that point was wait.

In the ambulance my paramedic explained the Paxlovid doesn't cure COVID, it ameliorates symptoms.  The ambulance crew set me up in the hallway. Both in masks – as I am Typhoid Mary. Hospital staff had to clear a room for me. By 9 p.m. I had a room, away from the old with oxygen masks, a poor screaming preschooler, and other vulnerable people. What a job.

The irony is that this is the room I was in for 6 hours when I had chest pains after Joe's cancer surgery. I had driven myself in as I didn't think it was a heart attack. I read a book that time. It was high blood pressure from stress. 

Anyway, back to Monday night. The one nurse wanted to know what I wanted from them. To be able to breathe? At this point, the terrible coughing spells stopped. This whackadoodle old white woman just wanted someone to listen to her lungs to rule all this out. I know they were busy. I know COVID is old hat now, but I felt diminished. 

I'd brought a book, and when I passed another couple of people on beds in the hallway, they were reading. 

Eventually I could feel an anxiety attack coming on. I'd phoned Joe twice, first letting him know I had a chest Xray. The woman that took me to that was cheerful, sweet, and kind. No one else was checking in on me. 

I'd phoned Joe at 9:15, 10:00 and 11. First to tell him I was in a room and the ambulance team had left, total professionals. Next I phoned to say I'd had the X-ray. He said he was still awake. He might still be up when I was done, but I could take a taxi. Panic. I don't know if we have taxis in Perth at 11 p.m! 

By then the anxiety kicked in. By 11:00, I opened my cell door, and most of the other patients were gone. I couldn't take it any more. I asked him to pick me up outside the ER entrance. ANXIETY was rearing its head. Worried about Joe looking after his COVID bout, and letting him get rest. This morning, we had coffee, and he went back to bed for a nap.

I called to another nurse to tell her I had to leave. I'm sure the doctors were finishing up paperwork and all, but I was falling asleep. Joe, pretty ill, needed to get to bed. A neighbour offered any help, but you can't call people to take a COVID patient home.

We arrived home at 23:24 hours. Joe went right to bed. I lay down to read more of my book (an excellent  Canadian thriller, by the way), but thought I should try sleep. In 10 minutes I was coughing. I got up, coughed up what I could, had some water, and went back to bed. I was up twice in the night coughing, but got back to sleep. 

 

I've an appointment with my GP this morning at 11. He'll interpret the X-ray for me. I am deeply suspicious that nothing else can be done for me. I loathe going into the office with COVID. I just don't know what else to do.

I am processing all this. I am very emotional, crying at the drop of a hat, and feeling guilty for taking up healthcare system time. In hindsight, I deserve it, as much as anyone. I am putting it all into perspective. 

In foresight, the news cycle has changed. With Kamala Harris' nomination, the continent, if not the world seems lighter and brighter. We had rain, and now the sun is out.