Well, I got stung again. This time I was getting carts from the parking lot at the store and saw a bee buzzing around so I walked away as quickly as possible to no avail. It got me right behind the ear and it hurt like hell. I walked into the store and got my epipen from the Managers’ office, I keep one in his desk, and gave myself the shot.
I let someone know about what happened and went back into the office to sit down. As soon as I hit the chair I started shaking uncontrollably. This has never happened before and, as I was also sweating so much ,I started to hyperventilate. I couldn’t catch my breath for my life. I asked someone for some water and as they brought me the bottle I put it to my mouth and was shaking so much I think I chipped my tooth on the top of it. Our pharmacist brought me 50 mg. of Benedryl syrup and I drank that but couldn’t stop shaking. She told someone to call 911, as we weren’t sure if the shaking and loss of breath was from the Epinephrine or a reaction to the sting. You never want to take the chance so I can’t complain.
When EMS got there they asked me to get on the stretcher, and as I got up I remember asking Paul, our Grocery Manager, where I put my glasses. I kept feeling around the desk for them until I realized that I was wearing them. They helped me to the stretcher and as I was laying down on it I noticed that I was starting to cry. I don’t know why but the tears were rolling down my cheeks. I truly knew I was going to be all right but I was a bit more concerned than usual because like I said before, I’ve never had the shaking and sweating like this before.
Once in the ambulance, they hooked me up to a couple different drips. I have no idea what they were and started taking my vitals. I can’t explain the feeling of embarrassment I felt. I just felt so foolish about the whole thing. I know it’s not my fault but I couldn’t help but feel I could have avoided this whole thing somehow. I know the Benedryl was kicking in and my breathing started to get back to normal. And again, I knew I was going to be all right. They took me to the hospital and put me in a room. Let me say this about the EMS guys. Absolute professionals, they did a great job and made sure I was as comfortable as possible.
The concern in the hospital seemed to be why I was sweating so much. I was freezing but my shirt was drenched. They put some monitors on me and kept the drips going until they were sure I was ok. I got home and pretty much slept the day away.
It’s now the following morning and I still feel a little dizzy. I’m alright and I’m hoping the down feeling goes away soon. I’m working today and it’s Christmas Eve. Even though I’m Jewish it’s still one of my favorite days to work on. My next mission is to find a way to stay away from the bees. I’ll have to study up on getting my immunity system a little stronger against the venom. We’ll have to see what happens
Showing posts with label illness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label illness. Show all posts
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Lets Go Crazy
“Don't arrange to have me sent to no asylum
I'm just as sane as anyone
It's a just a game I play for fun –
for fun.”
It’s a weird thing, mental illness. I’m sure I suffer from it in some ways. Don’t misunderstand what I’m saying here. I’m fine. Sure I get down and I think too much but that’s all right. I probably do more thinking out of boredom than anything else. I’m not going anywhere and I’m certainly not going to ever do anything to hurt myself. I’m way past that kind of thinking. It was many years ago that I came to an understanding with myself to just deal with whatever happens. I may hide and not talk about whatever it is that bothers me but that’s just how I deal with it.
I think the worst thing about dealing with any kind of mental issue is if you’re only suffering from it part of the time. When I get down and start thinking about the strange things one thinks about in these times, there’s always that voice in the back of my head saying, “all right idiot, get over it and move along”. It must be horrible for those that still have that voice of logic in their heads but it’s not strong enough to pull them back. To know that you’re not right and to not have the strength to bring it back must be so painful to that person.
I’ve been in retail for what seems like a million years and I’ve seen my share of strange individuals. I always would wonder about the ones that were way out there. Do they have any idea that they’re lost? Do they remember what it was like to see things in a normal fashion? There used to be a woman that shopped in Rancho Bernardo, where I worked, that would come into the store, buy some liquor and head to the bathroom and proceed to drink the entire bottle of whatever she had bought. She would invariably pass out on the restroom floor and we would have to wake her to get her to go home when closing time came. There was a time that she was blocking the door after she passed out and when someone opened the door they cracked her head open with it. We had to call an ambulance and understandably, there was a huge scene.
I bring this story up because this woman would still shop at the store even after scenes like this. She would act as if nothing happened and would just go along her way. I would wonder if she remembered what had happened or it was just a blank. She’d shop in the store with her husband and the two would act as if nothing ever happened. That always amazed me. Was she just nuts or was this something the two of them would just choose to ignore.
I was talking to a guy at work today and he was telling me about his mother. She suffers from dementia and does not remember anything. What she does know is that she has dementia. That’s just got to be so painful for her. I know that if I were that bad off I would hope that I didn’t even realize that I had a problem. Sure it must be horrible for the loved ones but aren’t we more concerned about the victim? I don’t know why but I really find this to be a fascinating subject. I always wonder if the ill know they’re ill.
I'm just as sane as anyone
It's a just a game I play for fun –
for fun.”
It’s a weird thing, mental illness. I’m sure I suffer from it in some ways. Don’t misunderstand what I’m saying here. I’m fine. Sure I get down and I think too much but that’s all right. I probably do more thinking out of boredom than anything else. I’m not going anywhere and I’m certainly not going to ever do anything to hurt myself. I’m way past that kind of thinking. It was many years ago that I came to an understanding with myself to just deal with whatever happens. I may hide and not talk about whatever it is that bothers me but that’s just how I deal with it.
I think the worst thing about dealing with any kind of mental issue is if you’re only suffering from it part of the time. When I get down and start thinking about the strange things one thinks about in these times, there’s always that voice in the back of my head saying, “all right idiot, get over it and move along”. It must be horrible for those that still have that voice of logic in their heads but it’s not strong enough to pull them back. To know that you’re not right and to not have the strength to bring it back must be so painful to that person.
I’ve been in retail for what seems like a million years and I’ve seen my share of strange individuals. I always would wonder about the ones that were way out there. Do they have any idea that they’re lost? Do they remember what it was like to see things in a normal fashion? There used to be a woman that shopped in Rancho Bernardo, where I worked, that would come into the store, buy some liquor and head to the bathroom and proceed to drink the entire bottle of whatever she had bought. She would invariably pass out on the restroom floor and we would have to wake her to get her to go home when closing time came. There was a time that she was blocking the door after she passed out and when someone opened the door they cracked her head open with it. We had to call an ambulance and understandably, there was a huge scene.
I bring this story up because this woman would still shop at the store even after scenes like this. She would act as if nothing happened and would just go along her way. I would wonder if she remembered what had happened or it was just a blank. She’d shop in the store with her husband and the two would act as if nothing ever happened. That always amazed me. Was she just nuts or was this something the two of them would just choose to ignore.
I was talking to a guy at work today and he was telling me about his mother. She suffers from dementia and does not remember anything. What she does know is that she has dementia. That’s just got to be so painful for her. I know that if I were that bad off I would hope that I didn’t even realize that I had a problem. Sure it must be horrible for the loved ones but aren’t we more concerned about the victim? I don’t know why but I really find this to be a fascinating subject. I always wonder if the ill know they’re ill.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
It's The Dying Part That Hurts
I’ve come to Chicago to surprise Dad for his birthday tomorrow. Lucky and I got here last night and I’m not sure whether I’ll see Dad or not until tomorrow. His girlfriend is throwing him a B-day party and he doesn’t know about the party or me. I’ll call her in a bit to see how she wants to work the surprise part.
Dad, David and Laverne, Dad’s girlfriend, went to see the Dr. yesterday to run through whatever kind of treatment program they’re going to use on him. I was driving here when Dad called and told me about the things that would be happening to him. It seems they’ve got a decent enough plan and Dad seems pretty comfortable with it.
I guess they’re going to put a stint in his arm that somehow dries up his testosterone. From what I can gather, the cancer feeds off testosterone and the less there is in his system the easier it is to fight the cancer. After they get that under control they’ll start radiation and whatever else they feel needs to be done. The Dr’s. have told him that the odds are great that he will outlive the cancer.
Dad and I were talking about the whole thing and he seems pretty ok with the whole thing. He keeps saying he’s 76 years old so what can he expect? He figures he’s only got five or 10 years left anyway so this isn’t really any big thing.
On my way to Chicago he called me and while we talked he said that he wasn’t worried because he wasn’t afraid of dying. We talked about that for a minute and I told him I felt a little like that myself with only one difference. I told him that I thought what he really meant was that he wasn’t afraid of being dead. It’s the dying part that can be so difficult on so many levels. I mean there’s the obvious physical pain that you feel but there is also, I would think, an incredible amount of emotional pain that goes along with it. We talked a bit about that and he seemed to understand what I was trying to say.
I think he’ll be alright with this whole thing. David will do what he can to keep those of us that don’t live here informed of any developments and I talk to Dad on quite a regular basis. I know he doesn’t want to go through the treatment, not because of any associated pain that goes with it, I think it’s mainly because it’ll make him do things. He’s never really been one to want to have to do anything and with this he sort of has to.
Laverne will make sure he takes whatever medication he needs to take and that, I can attest to, is not an easy task. He gets handed his little packet of pills and he’ll start to open the package and start talking to someone and he’ll just plain forget what he’s doing and set them down. It happened last night at dinner. He had the packet in his hand and he started telling me some stories of when he was in the army. He totally forgot about the pills. It truly does just slip his mind. I noticed it and told him to stop and take his pills. Laverne made a comment about how this is what happens all the time. He agreed. I totally get it.
I’ll be going over there for his Birthday BBQ and I’m sure he’ll be incredibly uncomfortable and want nothing more than for everyone to leave so I’ll just sit there by him and let him tell his stories. I kind of turn off the brain when listening but I realize that these times won’t last so I can make the effort. He’ll never know the difference.
Dad, David and Laverne, Dad’s girlfriend, went to see the Dr. yesterday to run through whatever kind of treatment program they’re going to use on him. I was driving here when Dad called and told me about the things that would be happening to him. It seems they’ve got a decent enough plan and Dad seems pretty comfortable with it.
I guess they’re going to put a stint in his arm that somehow dries up his testosterone. From what I can gather, the cancer feeds off testosterone and the less there is in his system the easier it is to fight the cancer. After they get that under control they’ll start radiation and whatever else they feel needs to be done. The Dr’s. have told him that the odds are great that he will outlive the cancer.
Dad and I were talking about the whole thing and he seems pretty ok with the whole thing. He keeps saying he’s 76 years old so what can he expect? He figures he’s only got five or 10 years left anyway so this isn’t really any big thing.
On my way to Chicago he called me and while we talked he said that he wasn’t worried because he wasn’t afraid of dying. We talked about that for a minute and I told him I felt a little like that myself with only one difference. I told him that I thought what he really meant was that he wasn’t afraid of being dead. It’s the dying part that can be so difficult on so many levels. I mean there’s the obvious physical pain that you feel but there is also, I would think, an incredible amount of emotional pain that goes along with it. We talked a bit about that and he seemed to understand what I was trying to say.
I think he’ll be alright with this whole thing. David will do what he can to keep those of us that don’t live here informed of any developments and I talk to Dad on quite a regular basis. I know he doesn’t want to go through the treatment, not because of any associated pain that goes with it, I think it’s mainly because it’ll make him do things. He’s never really been one to want to have to do anything and with this he sort of has to.
Laverne will make sure he takes whatever medication he needs to take and that, I can attest to, is not an easy task. He gets handed his little packet of pills and he’ll start to open the package and start talking to someone and he’ll just plain forget what he’s doing and set them down. It happened last night at dinner. He had the packet in his hand and he started telling me some stories of when he was in the army. He totally forgot about the pills. It truly does just slip his mind. I noticed it and told him to stop and take his pills. Laverne made a comment about how this is what happens all the time. He agreed. I totally get it.
I’ll be going over there for his Birthday BBQ and I’m sure he’ll be incredibly uncomfortable and want nothing more than for everyone to leave so I’ll just sit there by him and let him tell his stories. I kind of turn off the brain when listening but I realize that these times won’t last so I can make the effort. He’ll never know the difference.
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