Thursday, February 5, 2015

Fragile Memories

Memories are stored in the brain and what a delicate receptacle to place such treasured items into. It is an uncertain and fragile container to keep such precious parts of our lives. Monday, I apparently fell on some ice after I cleaned the walkway. I don’t remember anything after replacing the broom on the porch until being in an ambulance in my ride to UPMC.
There is a hole in my life, a hole where there should be a memory. I only remember what I have been told. Anna said that I appeared outside of her door and told her that “I think I need help.” I don’t remember getting around to make the ride to the hospital at Frick. I don’t remember going into the hospital or the time I spent there, any testing, the physician, or the staff.
I should remember the staff. I worked at Frick for 34 years and knew most of them. Many of them are friends. I walked the hallways all of that time and knew it as well as I knew my own home, all I remembered was a blank spot I time with nothing hanging there for me to see. Like an empty closet. I know the hangers mark the time, but there is nothing on them to say what has happened.
I have snatches of the emergency department at UPMC, snatches of going to the floor, and snatches of the admission to the floor. I remember a long day of stiff neck and fullness in my head. I remember a stream of physicians and technicians. The nurses and my roommate and his family made the most impression on my brain. I remember Terry from the admission to the floor, I remember my night nurse Abibibi, who took my assignment from Terry. She was from India, sweet and patient. She wheeled me down to my 4:30 a.m. CT.
I remember an assistant, in forest green scrubs, who took a job as an assistant because he wasn’t able to find what he wanted in his area of expertise. For some reason, I can’t recall his name but that he studied music and was from Munhall, Pennsylvania. (Sorry dude.)
I remember my daylight nurse Erin and all of the demands that I made for comfort and care. I remember two men who came into my room and talked to me about my injuries and concerns. What they discovered was that at some time, the crystals in one of my vestibular canals had misaligned and was misreading my position. By leaning me back over the edge of the bed and turning my head, they were able to realign them and hopefully they will stay that way, reducing the any disequilibrium. I remember my roommate and his family, but will talk about them at another time. I remember two sweet, slender, cute young female aides, and how impertinently and teasingly refreshing they were.
The only thing that I know for sure is that I have an abrasion and sore spot on the back of my head and a stiff neck and that will be a memory for sure.

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