"This time, when I'm leaving-- Who cares where I go?"

Fight, from "Reality...A New Beginning" on WAR OF WORDS

21-September-11 @12:15 hrs.

Hi, Gang! Sorry that I haven't kept up with my bloggng, but the past few months have been a whirlwind of very unpleasant events.

So, where to begin...

I got a surprise visit from my father on 10-August...and he was bearing bad news. Both my landlord and the manager of Vista Ranch were considering starting eviction proceedings against me. The reason was my housekeeping skills had deteriorated to where I was becoming a "hazard."

So, we did some peliminary cleaning, then I called Turning Point in Oceanside to see about finding a new place to live. They wanted a "medical clearance" from Tri-City, due to my CHF Stage 1...so my Dad ran me over to the ED to get the paperwork and chest x-ray.

So, I got in line and went to Triage. The nurse-on-duty noticed that I was breathing really heavy...so they did a vital-signs check. Ten minutes later, I was wheeled to the Mainside ED and put into a "gown and gurney." They drew six tubes of blood, then the doctor came to see me.

After the physical check (and a chest X-Ray), Doc O'Brian told me the news...my swelling had gotten to the point where a I.V. course of Lasix as an inpaitent was mandatory. So, the R.N. started an I.V. shunt in my left elbow crook (and, yes, that bugger hurt) and gave me my first dose of Lasix.

At 22:00, I was wheeled to Telemetry to begin my six day stay as a guest of Tri-City Medical Center (and my first not on the Behavioral Health Unit). The daily routine involved a 06:00 wake-up for my daily blood draw. At 08:00, breakfast was served (and they put me on a Cardiac diet--smaller portions, but still rather yummy). My Dad stopped by to drop off my cell phone and chat me up. (He went home Friday morning via Southwest Airlines). My therapist brought some reading material (including two Calvin & Hobbes books).

At 10:00, the CNAs used warm baby wipes to clean my skin. Lunch was at noon, and dinner at 17:30. Medication wise, I recieved three injections of Lasix per day, plus three injections of heparain (to prevent bedsores) in my belly (not pleasant). My shunt catheter was changed on Sunday (more pain), and I was put on fluid restriction the day before (dry mouth is yukky).

On 12-August, the social worker who handles discharge issues arrainged a meeting with Suzanne. She runs the house I am staying at now. My Dad was there as well. We chatted for about an hour, then we agreed to have me move in on the 16th. Currently, my father is handling the rent and my out-of-pocket expenses (until my Social Security issues are resolved)--plus he sprung for the new laptop I'm using to make this entry (birthday present, plus my backup computer was roach-sodden).

So,what is it like living here? Not bad. Food's surprisingly good (Suzanne and her hubby Misha are good cooks), two of my "old friends" live in the ladies' dorm up the hill, and I currently have the room to myself (so if I feel like watching a DVD to help me sleep, that's cool). Misha can be a bit of a grump, but Suzanne is as mild as cheese.

I get along rather well with most of the clients--but there are three here who can benefit from time in a higher-supervision facility. One of them almost got a mouthful of my cane for his impersonation of a corn-hole. Three of the clients often run errands for me if needed (and yes, I do let them get a cold drink or cookies from the store if I send them there).

So, even though my three-year experiment in self-directed living has ended, where I am currently living now is pretty cool. I do know now that I will never be able to live by myself (my balance has gotten much worse, so I need to have somebody keep an eye on me in case I fall, which I have done several times).

So...as one aspect of my life ends, a new one has begun. And it's looking good so far!

--LPR