Lately, I have not been up to par. After a couple of consults at Sutter Emergency Hospital near my home (with the VA’s okay), I gave myself to the good graces of the Veterans’ Administration Medical Helpers. The VA Medical people are thorough. Give them an inch and they will take a mile. A first minor symptom, which they thought might be a ‘pre-stroke’ was the cause of every test for heart and lung problems known to the mind of man.
After taking all those MRI’s, X-rays, and examinations, the long and the short of all that investigation was there was nothing wrong with my ticker. It was pumping away pretty well and behaving as expected. It was a lung problem.
My shortness of breath (which I hope will be temporary) may have come from second-hand smoke, or, years ago, the time I fooled around with clay and did some work with clay and ceramics sculpting.
To this day the doctors are still not sure of the cause, but just to cover all the bases they have loaded up my room with Oxygen bottles and Oxygen machines. The doctor is still treating me and I intend to be better soon and better than par for the course.
My shortness of breath gets in the way of anything I do and that is what this article is all about. We had a hot spell that needed my room cooler. My room cooler is a lovely contraption that sucks the warm air out and sends it to the Hell of the Hot spell outside. It would have worked with no problem except all the devils of the hot place were looking for a chance to do me in. I tried to put the panel (already fabricated) in an opening in my sliding glass to where it fits just right. It seals the room with a round eight-inch-diameter hole in the panel. That hole is where the outlet hot air goes, which the refrigeration machine inside the robot exchanges for the cool air it makes and sends into my room.
It would have been completed but I was short of oxygen and a bit careless and got the panel in wrong; twice. The room was getting as hot as it was outside because I had missed the mark. I tried a third time and, somehow got it right but I was completely out of breath. At that moment two things happened; the phone rang, and I dropped my glasses,
The one new surprise the doctors don’t mention is what happened next. I lost control of my bladder. With my final effort, I got the Cooling Machine going and raced for a nearby oxygen tank.
The minute that oxygen tank was on, giving me oxygen, things began to slide back to normal. I found my glasses, cleaned myself up, put on clean shorts and trousers, and heaved a sigh of relief.
Next time I time the procedure better but as Shakespeare says, ‘All’s well that ends well.’ Cleo, watching the whole affair at my expense, agreed.
A dozen other emergencies occur every day but isn’t that better than the every day we are alive? That is life. You and I can expect such emergencies as long as we are alive. It is a small price to pay for being alive. Life is wonderful and it is a price I pay gladly.
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