I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Getting old is not for the weak of heart.  

I learned this first-hand last night.  

Yesterday started like any other Friday.  

Got to work.  Had coffee.  Did all the things that I do on Friday.  

Ran over to the other restaurant to oversee an inverview.  

Picked up an appliance we’d had repaird.  

Got back to our main location around 4:15.  

Got all the things done to start service.  

Next thing I knew it was 5:00.  We were off. 

Just like every Friday night.  I was at the door.  Greeting people.  Instructing the staff where to take them.  

And then.  

Around 5:20 a couple walks in and says, Hello, we have a reservation for 2 at 5:30.  

Is say great.  What’s the name.  

They give me their name. 

And I glance down at the I-pad.  

And I could see the letters.  I could see the I-pad.  I could see the desk that it was on.  But the letters were moving.  I blinked a couple of times.  And was able to see their name and got them seated.  

Once they left, I started looking around.  

My vision was fucked. 

Everything was blurry.  I could barely see the letters on the I-pad.  I pulled out my phone and it was even worse.  

The next guests come in and I get them seated barely.  

I’m still looking around, hoping this would pass.  It did not. 

Then I notice that there are kaleidoscopic lights in my periphery.  Both sides.  My full vision is still blurry.  

I wait and wait for it to pass.  

In my head I’m saying your fine.  Don’t panic.  You’ll be okay.  

But it wasn’t getting better.  

I kept blinking.  Kept trying to focus to no avail.  

I finally say to myself, take this seriously.  

Lots of people die because they think it’s nothing and it will pass.  

I finally ask my assistant manager to meet me by the bathroom and I say, I need you to take me to the emergency room.  She said, what?  I said, I’m not kidding.  I need you to take me to the emergency room.  My vision is blurry and something is going on.  

90 seconds later we were in my car, she was driving, and we were going to the ER.  

We get there and she lets me out to go park.  

I go through the most intense security I’ve gone through, even in an airport, to get into the ER.  

I go in, tell the woman at the desk why I’m there.  I get a bracelet and told to wait.  

What seems like forever passes before my co-worker comes in.  

Seems that when she got to the metal detectors, she had to own up to having several self-defense items that she had to take back to the car.  We laughed about that.  

We are now waiting.  

The waiting room is filled.  A variety of issues.  

She tells me I need to reach out to Adam.   I text him.  Hey call me when you see this.  

After a bit I get called to triage.  

They check me in.  Ask me a bunch of question.  I tell them what is happening.  The doctor and nurse tell me that it sounds like a migraine.  But.  Because of my age, they want to run other tests.  I reply, are you calling me old?  It sounds like you are calling me old?  Hmmm.  I was joking.  They laughed.  

I go back to my seat.  After a little bit, I’m taken back to get vitals.  They take my blood pressure.  They do some other things.  I’m told once again, because of my age they are being precautious.  They take blood and for the first time in my life my veins aren’t producing.  It takes forever.  

I go back to my seat.   I sit down and my friend and I chat about work, about what’s going on.  

They finally call me back. 

I get to the door, and she is still sitting, and the nurse says oh is that your wife.  I laugh and say no, but I turn and tell her to come with me.  When she joins us, I say, they thought you were my wife, she says, well I am his work wife, which is very much true.  

They get me to a room.  I sit.  There is no chair for her.  She is cold, so she wraps herself in the curtain.  

We wait.  

They come take my vitals again.  

At this point, I’m told my blood pressure is high.  They don’t say how high.   

We wait.  

I reach out to Adam.  

It’s been over an hour now. 

She finally says, she is going to go call the restaurant.  

She leaves.  

She is gone a while.  

He finally calls.  

Seems she texted a co-worker of his and told him to call me.  He tells me he will be there soon.  

It’s around 7:20 or so. 

Not too long after they come to take me for a CT Scan.  

I get wheeled back.  

Get there.  Put on the table.  I’m told of all the dangers of the dye.  I’m told it will make me think I need to pee.  

They inject me.  It’s weird feeling it pump through my body.  

It’s all over.  

I’m being taken back to my room.  

I get there about 4 minutes before Adam arrives.  

He gets there.  My co-worker leaves.  

We sit and watch the Olympic opening ceremony.  

Lady Gaga.  Marie Antoinette.  The fire canons.  

We are watching when my nurse arrives with a wheel chair with a serious look on her face.  

Without a greeting she says, you need to come with me.  

I reply am I in trouble. 

She says, they found bleeding at the back of your skull.  You are being moved to critical care.  

I get in the chair, and am taken down a series of corridors, where I am met with an intense group of doctors and nurses.  

I’m swarmed as they get me hooked up to machines, take my vitals again, and am asked questions over and over.  

Turns out my blood pressure was 220 over something when I came in.  This couple with the bleeding means things are now serious.  There is no joking, even though I try.  

I have had to pee.  For the last hour.  There is no modesty.  They hand me a portable urinal and I pee, in front of the nurses.  It fills the jug.  Everyone is impressed.  

Finally, I’m hooked up.  A very handsome doctor appears at my side. 

I’m staying here for observation.  They have put me on medicine to bring my blood pressure down.  They are concerned about the bleeding and are scheduling an MRI to determine more clearly what is going on.  Meanwhile, I’m in good hands and they’ll take care of me.  

Needless to say these words do little to calm me.  It’s approaching 8:00 and I now think I’m having a stroke.  

We were there for about two hours.  I’m told I can’t eat, though I am promised a turkey sandwich later.  I can’t drink, although I am given some ice chips.  

My blood pressure is being taken every few minutes.  Adam reads the numbers to me.  Lower, but not great.  

We are sitting watching a clock that has a fucked up seconds hand.  It stalls then moves forward 5 seconds.  I watch this for over an hour.  

We hear a man snoring in the next area.  Loudly.  It’s disturbing.  

Until about 30 minutes later they start trying to wake him up explaining to him that he had had an overdose.  

We sit and wait.  

Finally they come get me for the MRI.  

It is a long trip to the lab.  

At one point we turn down what I referred to as the creepy hallway.  It was longer than a football field.  Painted green with flowers that did not help the creepiness.  My nurse said, she expected Willy Wonka music.  I said I felt like I was in American Horror Story Asylum.  No doors.  No windows.  Just a phone about halfway through that could only be used to dial security.  It was creepy as fuck.  

Finally, after many more twists and turns we were there.  

This will be my fourth MRI.  The first on my head.  I get there.  I’m still on the IV.  They are still reading my blood pressure and heart rate.  It takes forever to get hooked up as I have to stay hooked up during the procedure.  

I get wheeled into the room.  I ready to slide into the machine when without warning the operator snaps a mask on to me, and I panic.  Its bad enough being in the machine.  Now I have a mask on that I can’t life my head and can barely breathe.  I squeeze the panic ball.  She apologizes, and says, it’s just 20 minutes you can do it.  

I close my eyes.  And relax.  

I think about Adam and I on the beach in California.  I think about our first Valentine’s Day.  I think about cuddling on the couch.  I think about a bar crawl we did years ago.  I think about holding his hand.  I think about how much I love him and how much I need this to not be serious. 

And then 20 minutes is over. 

My nurse who has been monitoring me the whole time, says that at one point my heart rate dropped to 38.  I told her I was meditating and trying to relax.  

I’m wheeled back to my room. 

Now we wait.  It was around 9:00 at this time.  

At one point, there is a lot of scurrying around.  And suddenly we can hear shouting.  

It’s an episode of ER as the person talking calls out vitals and details.  Young man.  Age 28.  Involved in a motorcycle accident.  Not wearing a helmet.  Found about 15 feet from the high way.  She went on.  Etoh was consumed during dinner.  She rattles off his other details as the fever pitch grows as people start to work on him.  

This was when they came to get me to take me to ICU.  

With the fear of the bleeding, and the high blood pressure there is lots of concern.  

I’m taken to the 6^th floor where it’s described as the penthouse.  And it is.  Private rooms.  Overlooking downtown Portland.  

Once again, there is a scurry of activity.  I’m processed.  Hooked up to a bevy of machines.  

There is again.  No modesty.  The nurse and CAN are hooking me up.  Hands all over as I try and keep my gown over my private parts.  

It takes about 10 minutes.  I’m settled in.  

I have to say, my nurse is amazing.  Actually, EVERYONE I had contact with at the hospital was amazing.  Nice.  Understanding.  

Adam scoots his chair over next to me, so he can hold my hand.  He’s been holding my hand since he arrived.  He strokes my hand and forearm, more worried than I am.  

We sit there in silence. 

A ICU doctor comes in.  He shares what he knows.  I ask if I can eat or drink.  He says not yet, but he’ll let me know when I can.  He doesn’t reveal more than I already know.  

I’m in bed.  My blood pressure being taken every few minutes.  Adam continues to read off the results, reminding me that I always say I have perfect blood pressure.  

The nurse comes in checks with me.  

The night drags on.  

Finally, they decided I can eat and drink.  I have had no water in about 6 hours.  I haven’t eaten all day.  

Adam goes to the cafeteria and gets me stuffed chicken and corn.  It is not great.  

I also have a turkey sandwich.  Early in Critical Care the nurse mentioned that they were known for warm blankets and turkey sandwiches.  I ask for both, but I’m told can’t have turkey yet.  When I moved upstairs she packed me one to go.  It was delicious.  

The night drags on.  

Sometime in the wee hours of the morning the neurologist shows up.  

And he does a battery of test.  Pull this finger.  Push this hand.  Move your foot here.  Move your heel there.  Touch your nose.  How many fingers am I holding up.  It goes on for about 30 minutes.  

After the exam, he tells me what is going on.  

There is actually not bleeding. It is calcification.  Whatever that means.  

They are back to it being a migraine.  I have all the obvious symptoms.  Without the headache.  This coupled with the insanely high blood pressure has warranted all the precautions. 

The nurse is there.  

She laughs and says, does this mean he can go home.  

I’m told they have to check with the on duty doctor.  

It’s’ around 4:00 a.m. 

It takes forever to be discharged.  My nurse explains that in her ten years of working in the ICU at this hospital they have never discharged someone from the ICU.  There are usually two options.  You either move to a regular room.  Or you die. 

Hours and hours pass.  The room is a million degrees.  I’m still hooked up to all the machines and is required.  I have to pee, but I don’t want to be a bother.  My blankets and gown are all wrapped up around me.  

After I’m told I’m not going to die, Adam goes home to feed the cats.  He is gone for a couple of hours.  

Finally, when the sun is firmly up, they come in to tell me they have approval to let me go home from the ICU.  

I am disconnected.  I now have bruises on my arms for the blood pressure machine.  

I’m sweaty.  I want a shower.  I’m still hungry.  And I need a gallon of water.  

I get dressed.  

And we wait for a wheel chair to arrive so I can be taken downstairs.  

The nurse lets us know it’s the first time she’s taken someone downstairs to leave.  

We get to the car.  

Adam starts the car, a song from Falsettos is playing on the radio.  He says, well this is appropriate.  

He drives us home.  

It’s full-on sun as we drive home. 

We get home, shower and climb into bed.  

Adam holds me tight as we wait for sleep.  

I thought it would take a bit.  

But I was out cold.  

When I woke up, I had been at my high school reunion, playing duck duck goose.  

It felt great to wake up in my own bed late this afternoon.  

It felt good to be alive. 

It was a scary night. 

Here’s the thing.  I’ve read and seen many articles about people, especially men, who die because they ignore the warning signs.  Too proud to acknowledge weakness.  Afraid to embarrass themselves.  I’ll never do that.  

I’m glad this story has a happy ending.  

PS.  I have not proofed the writing.  Please forgive any typos.