A Dash of Cold Water to the Face

by AnnaAmie

I will never laugh at the expression "I've fallen and I can't get up" again. On December 9, 2009 I fell in my home and couldn't get up for anything in the world. It was not a nice feeling. My daughter found me on the floor and due to her quick thinking I was taken to one of the best private hospitals in NYC where my doctor of over twenty years has residency. The ER evaluation was going to be that I was depressed but my doctor insisted that it had to be more and sure enough, there was. Turns out my blood sugar was 800. That's right, 800. That is coma territory when it comes to blood sugar levels. Needless to say I was inundated with insulin injections and blood thinners. I spent a couple of days in the ER in what I now know was a semi conscious state. In my mind I was fine.

It was a fight but - beds are on short supply - but my first room was in a private pavilion for cardiac patients. No one could figure out where the high blood sugar came from since I hadn't exhibited any symptoms before collapsing.

The room was monitored with closed circuit television and that was a good thing. I was encouraged to try and use the facilities on my own - this was two days later mind you, and my legs gave out again. The cardiologist ordered an echo cardiagram and found that I had pulmonary emboli which of course is not good. I was also forbidden to get out of bed by myself again.

I couldn't stay on the private floor so I was transferred in the middle of the night to the floor where I'd spend the rest of my hospital stay. I was in a semi private room - I later found out the single occupant rooms were used by those who may have been infectious - and saw that my room mate was lying face down in her bed. I soon found out that I was lucky that first night that she had had her "medication" and was down for the count.

At this time I was still not quite with it and still had to rely on nurses to escort me to and from the bathroom that was literally five feet away.
I was told that I had Type 2 diabetes( I've since learned the difference between the two types) and that it was probably a medication I'd been prescribed to treat another medical condition that made me sick.

The drama with my room mate started as soon as she woke up. We didn't argue or fight, that was not her focus. What she wanted was for all attention to be focused on her and her self described pain. It soon became obvious that as long as she had her morphine pills she was fine. She would beg for them all day and then hoard them in the pages of the NY Times that she insisted she had to have brought to her by the newspaper lady everyday. Her daughter blew her out of the water though when she asked her mother why she was getting the paper at the hospital when it was delivered to her home every day. That started the maid coming daily to bring the paper and food she would eat from home. Did I mention that this woman was at least eighty years old? In the end the tests the hospital did found nothing wrong with her. During the time we shared a room she insulted and berated the nurses until they gave her what she wanted. A nurse who dared insist that she take medication for her illness had the pills thrown in her face. The nurse was made to apologize to this patient. The days the maid couldn't come were dreaded by the staff.

This woman was quite wealthy and being an active addict for many years was able to support her habit without having to conk people over the head to get her fix. At some point she told someone that her husband had been a doctor so that explained things.

My next room mate was a much nicer person and we got along fine.

But enough about the roommates. I was steadily getting better and celebrated the day I could finally read the whiteboard to know the names of the nurse and practical nurse for both the day and night shifts. The opthalmologist told me that my eyes have still not stabilized and that it takes time for the effects of blood sugar that had been that high to wear off on the eyes.

I also began to pay attention to what they were giving me to eat. I know the nursing staff is overworked but the dietary staff could be amazing in their lack of attention to details. I found out during my stay that foods made with white flour were not good for diabetics but I would end up with white bread at least once a day. I was also placed on warfarin and the list of foods high in Vitamin K that I should limit or avoid further restricted my diet. I'm scheduled to see a nutrionist this week and I'm hoping for an expanded menu plan that allows for a chance to eat some "normal" food.

This is going to sound weird but the soups in the hospital were fantastic. To this day I wish I could get the recipe for their lentil soup and surprisingly their barley. I also wish I could get my hands on their tuna salad recipe.

Changing to a diet where I have to pay very close attention to what I eat is not as bad as it would seem. Don't get me wrong there are days I want a nice juicy cheeseburger with all the fixings or a sausage and egg sandwich on a roll with mayo but I treat it like I would a craving for a cigarette (I haven't smoked in over twenty years) and go on to something else. Remembering falling and not being able to get up seems to do the trick.