Day 51 – Monday – VA Hospital Tucson

Today was relatively calm. It started out with me visiting Emily at the BX Toenail Boutique to have my toenails fixed. Diane got hers done last week and really liked her. Emily likes to talk so Diane thought we’d get along famously. We did. Emily is Laotian, she’s 5’2″, and probably weighs about 70 lbs. She has two children with whom she shares her native language. She’s also from North Carolina. I think I got most of that correct. Anyway, she did a marvelous job on my Troll Toes, and we talked about a lot of stuff. It was good therapy.

When I returned to the RV it was almost time for lunch, but Diane wanted to go shopping at two local thrift stores, then swing by the commissary. I’ve previously covered Diane’s dislike of me going shopping with her so she went alone while Max and I stayed home and watched a movie about golfing and racism. Max would have rather gone outside, I’m sure.

When Diane was gone, I experienced a dizzy spell that took a while to dissipate. When she returned, I was compelled to tell her about it, so we had a discussion about all aspects of probabilities, First, I located and resurrected the blood pressure cuff the VA gave me about 8 years ago. All it needed was new batteries. It just so happens; we have lots of those.

The first run was 86/56 which isn’t very close to what we thought it should be, so we waited a bit and did it again. Second run was something like 107/60. Really different from normal.

Considering those results Diane and I decided to bite the bullet and see what the Tucson VA Hospital is like at 1600 on a Monday afternoon. All I really wanted was a professional to take my BP and reassure me that it’s normal. Turns out they are pretty proficient, up to a point.

I was quickly registered upon arrival, and a nurse took my BP right away. The only number I saw was 144 so I figured that was pretty good and took my seat in the waiting room as directed. A short time later I was called into the back room where a medical person took 5 vials of blood. He wasn’t the best phlebotomist I’ve ever had, but he wasn’t the worst, either.

Then I was directed back to the waiting room with the butterfly thing hanging from my arm. Seems like everyone in the waiting room was decorated in the same manner. I can only presume that the blood guy was new, and he was tasked with practicing his newly acquired skills on everyone who visit the emergency room at 1600 on a Monday afternoon.

I hadn’t been sitting long before I was summoned to the back again where I was rigged with little snap pads for an EKG. It was all digital, so I was unable to watch the needles twitch like we did in the good old days.

An hour or so into this last waiting period I was summoned by a nurse and escorted through the locked doors that separate the first waiting room to the area where the REAL waiting rooms live. There are individual rooms for each patient. I don’t know how many rooms are back there, but I was in #19 at the end of a passageway. There must have been another room, #20, that I couldn’t see because I’m pretty sure there’s a universal law about using odd numbers of individual waiting rooms. That law might be incorporated with the hotel industry rule that 13th floors are not identified on elevator choices. The reason for the hotel thing is triskaidekaphobia.

Upon arrival to room 19, my nurse hooked me to a captive oximeter and a BP cuff both of which were connected to an automatic unit that took my BP about once every few minutes. I called the oximeter “captive” because instead of the normal little clippie thing commonly used, this one had the sending unit built into a big band aid that once properly applied is very difficult to remove.

I sat there for a while waiting to see what was going to happen, then asked a nurse if Diane could come back. She said yes and went to get her.

Before Diane arrived at my personal waiting room, I was planted in a wheelchair and pushed to the imaging section of the hospital to have a CT scan of my head. I suspect they were looking for something bleeding in my brain that might have caused the dizzy spell. We learned later that the reason listed for my visit was due to “dizziness and giddiness.” No one ever told us that, but it was listed on my discharge paperwork which we didn’t see until much later. Huh! I was diagnosed for giddiness.

gid·di·ness
[ˈɡidēnəs]
noun

  1. a sensation of whirling and a tendency to fall or stagger; dizziness: “symptoms include nausea, vomiting, and giddiness “Similar: dizziness, light-headedness, faintness, unsteadiness.
  2. a state of excitable frivolity: “the fans can be forgiven their giddiness”.

Who knew? I’ve always identified giddiness with the #2 choice. How about you?

Once the CT was done the real waiting began, and it was cold in that tiny room. I mentioned that before Diane arrived and the nurse, Randy, brought me a warm blanket. I gave it to Diane so she wouldn’t shiver. Randy told me it could take up to an hour for the CT and labs to be read and suggested we hunker down, which we did.

Finally, around 2130, the doctor returned and reported that neither the CT scan nor the blood work revealed anything unusual. So, he suggested a referral to a neurologist and a cardiologist to follow up and see what they can find, if anything. That should be fun.

While waiting for Randy to return with our checkout paperwork, I disconnected myself from the machine. No one seemed to care. I’d actually removed myself from the machines more than once to see what would happen. One of those times I took a walk around past all the other waiting rooms looking for a bathroom and no one questioned me. Interesting, eh?

Finally, at 2200, we were released from their custody and set the GPS to take us back to the RV. Max had been alone there for at least 6 hours, the longest he’s ever been alone. Like normal, he was happy to see us and we’re pretty sure he spent every second of that time in the driver’s seat on his favorite pillow. It’s white, fuzzy and holds all the hair that falls off him. He got a long walk for being such a good puppy.

This is his “Aw shucks” move.

Then we went to bed,

Thirteenth Day – The Dish is Fixed!

It’s been a good day. We went shopping at a Walmart Super Store for some food to replace what seems to have gone missing over the past few days. Then we went back to Camper World to get a new Wally because I was convinced that the old one took a beating in all the heat it suffered.

Once home I carted all the new food inside and Diane, like a magician, found places for all of it to reside. A couple of the items she got was some dead chicken pieces and a bag of frozen stir-fry veggies. While she lounged around on the patio with Max, I cooked all that stuff for lunch, and it was OK because that’s my job. I’m the cook. She cleans. I love the tradeoff. So does she. Thankfully it was good. She said so.

After eating all that dead chicken Max thought, it would be nice if he got to go for a walk because he had to stay home and guard the RV from intruders. He’s good at that because he’s such a scary little guy. Having said that, I’d bet he didn’t bark even one time while we were gone because he was asleep. I’m going to install a camera and see if that’s true.

Once we returned from the walk Diane gave me permission to install the new Wally and see if our life without TV was going to change. Before calling the designated number to activate the new Wally, I hooked it all up, paired the new remote to Wally, and it started going through its paces without me having to do much of anything as it moved through the process. All I had to do as wait for the que to dial the number and finish it. The end result proved to be the solution to our on-going dilemma we’ve experienced on this trip. Everything worked perfectly. We’ll never have to leave the RV at all except to get food. Life is good.

As the sun started going down Diane pried herself out of her patio chair and did a few loads of laundry so now we have clean towels, and I have my underwear back. I was running low. Tomorrow it will be sheets and some other stuff that doesn’t concern me.

Just as we were fixing to sequester ourselves in the RV to watch TV, we saw some interesting boats in the middle of the bay moving slowly with blinking red and amber lights. Diane said she’d seen then earlier zooming to the south in a line, going like the wind. This time they were heading back to the north. As we watched them, we became aware of small green and red lights bobbing in the water, moving very slowly toward us.

In the bay next to the RV park is a large docking facility for some really fancy boats. It’s owned by the Navy Yacht Club San Diego that has use of buildings in the park. I know that’s true because I’ve seen the signs.

As the lights moved around the bay, steadily moving north, the smaller lights migrated into the space between the bay and the docked yachts and the RV park. It wasn’t long before everyone in the park was standing/sitting along the edge of the water watching what was going on. As the sun set, the lights were easier to see.

Considering where we are, in very close proximity to base and beach where advanced Navy Seal training is conducted, I presumed the small lights in the bay were tethered to swimmers making their way from the southern end of San Diego Bay (Imperial Beach) back to the base from which they embarked. My presumption was adopted as truth by all the people surrounding me, that we were watching future Navy Seals at work. It appeared their objective was to transit that small space between us and the moored yachts without lights, in the dark. I have to admit that it was only Diane and me standing behind our RV, but many others were drawn to the drama taking place in new technology. There were no bubbles that would indicate a swimmer so they must have been using either rebreathers or some sort of technology that allows the escort boats to wirelessly send them oxygen via the tethered lights. They came toward us then moved away but always moved north to circumnavigate the docked yachts. It seemed they were doing this for our benefit, but in truth, it was probably Special Forces testing fancy stuff. I think everyone agreed that this was far better than listening to them firing weapons all up and down the beach for hours before quiet time – 10 pm.

I’m convinced I’m right, as is Diane. It was a display of Seals at Work. Amazing.

In case you’re wondering, my arm still hurts, and I took the bandages off to relieve pain from the swelling. It’s not bad but removing the bandages helped my attitude. Diane read the paperwork sent home with me from the hospital and learned that I’ve been advised to see my primary care doctor in a week for follow-up. So, I guess we’ll either have to fly home next week, or head home now since it took us a week to get here. That decision will be made tomorrow.

Good night.