Wearing Brown Leather Shoes

My mom, Sybil Miner Beck was frustrated with my younger brother Ken. Ken had discovered the small stream that flowed behind my parents’ house along Route 711 near Normalville, Pennsylvania. Ken learned that he could wade, splash, and keep cool when he played. Ken learned that he didn’t need to take off his shoes and socks to wade, and that was the problem. His shoes were heavy brown leather. Once they became wet and dried, they became stiff, hard. The shoes were ruined and no longer wearable.

It was then that Mom had an idea. She decided that she would buy a pair of tennis shoes for Ken. Mom thought, “When he wades wearing the tennis shoes, there won’t be a problem. I can let them dry and he can still wear them.”

The next time Mom went shopping in Connellsville, she bought a pair of low topped, blue canvas shoes for Ken. They were navy blue, cute and were laced white strings. Ken really liked them. He liked them so much, he wore them home. I know my brother and I’m sure he sat in the back seat of the car and stared at his blue clad feet the whole way home.

The next day Mom just happened to look out the back kitchen window. She saw Ken wading in the water. That wasn’t unusual, but she could hardly believe her eyes. Ken was splashing and kicking the water. He was having a great time. The thing that surprised Mom was that Ken was wading in the water with his shoes in his hand. The socks were tucked inside and he was barefooted.

Mom went outside to investigate. She was puzzled and asked, “Kenny, why aren’t you wearing your tennis shoes in the water like you did with your brown shoes?”

Ken’s reply was succinct and filled with childlike logic, “What, my new blue shoes!”

 

Screwing My Head Back Into Place

I’m trying to get my life back into the routine I had before my hypoglycemic spell in Wal-Mart Monday 12, 21, 2020 and the following events. My collapse at Wal-Mart and the ensuing phone tag with my PCP had my world in disarray. X-ray of my right shoulder and blood work through a series of trips to the hospital and emergency department eventually revealed that my kidneys weren’t functioning properly and my blood potassium was low. I was advised by my PCP to head to the hospital because of my low potassium level.

Chronic loose bowel movements and limited kidney function had depleted my reserves until I was worn out. Because I felt so ill I relished the thought of being admitted Christmas Eve. Tests ruled out that the diarrhea was from an infection called C-diff; C-diff is very contagious. Although negative, the docs decided to treat me. My urine came back with pseudomonas. I was not emptying my bladder. I ended up having another catheter inserted.

I was isolated inside a negative air flow room. I met new hospital employees and was reintroduced to some that I’d worked with in the past one person at a time. The negative air flow room was solitary confinement. When I was able to meet some of those I shared a work experience, it was wonderful and I was introduced to a few of the newer nurses. One nurse I met was named Jake. I’d actually worked with his mom. Because I was in isolation, I didn’t see him as much as if there was a regular room with an actual open door. He worked hard to make himself available for anything I might need. One day I asked how things were going and he said, “Pharmacy was late delivering the drugs,” which meant there was a glitch threw the rest of his day off. Later I asked if things were any better and he shared that a “code silver” had been called and it was his patient. A code silver occurs when a patient becomes belligerent, often threatening staff members or other patients with bodily harm. The nurse and other staff members have the responsibility to calm the situation and to maintain a safe environment for all involved. It’s never easy and very often time consuming that takes time away from other patients and tasks that are time sensitive.

Little by Little Inch by Inch

So much has happened since Christmas Eve. There are so many reasons that I was unable to post on my blog or to keep up with postcards and Bible verses. I’m hoping that I’ll be able to fill in a few answers. Since my hypoglycemic episode and face plant in Walmart on December 21, 2020, so much has happened. Blood work, x-rays, and conversations with my doctor. She’s a very caring and concerned physician. With the blood work results she discovered my kidneys weren’t functioning like they should and that my potassium was very low. Long story short I was admitted to the hospital Christmas Eve and have been a denizen there until last evening.

I’m still not out of the woods yet. I will still be taking medications, some orally and some IV pushes. Visiting nurses are coming in to check on me. It’s official…I’m over the hill. I have several phone calls to catch up on fuel oil, appointments, etc. There are chores that were left undone that I need to catch up on. Slow and steady, otherwise I’ll wear myself out.

I’ve had several volunteers, but what and where do you ask? I’ve never been that guy. I was so thankful that my neighbor’s grandsons, Ken and Ben came over to shovel my driveway clear. They’re such good young men. This is the second time they’ve helped. Thank you.

This is just a few lines until I can get my head screwed on straight. There are more shares to come. I made several new friends and acquaintances, but I’ll introduce them as my brain allows.

 

 

It was a Rough Day

Monday didn’t start out that way. Like most days, it was just another in a series of routine days with routine plans and the usual things that needed done. My first stop was my chiropractor for the usual adjustments of my neck, back, and sacrum. I was early and the other appointment was late, so I was escorted inside almost immediately.

My next stop was at the Verizon store to have my replacement phone functional. My old phone screen had shattered when it hit the concrete basement floor. I decided to stop at Wally World for a few items, nothing unusual about that. I found what I wanted and was standing in the interminably long checkout line. As I stood there, I felt reality slipping away. I knew what it was and immediately popped a spearmint lozenge to thwart the low blood sugar. There was no place to sit and I was too proud to sit on the floor.

That changed in a swirl and ended up unceremoniously on the floor anyway. I wasn’t really out. I could hear voices around me. One lady called 911. Another woman opened a Jolly Rancher and popped it into my mouth. Within minutes I became Wal-Mart’s customer of the month. My upturned buggy was righted and my groceries returned. A wheelchair soon appeared to whisk me away from the high traffic area to wait for medical personnel to arrive. My blood sugar was 130 because of the lozenge and the Jolly Rancher. The rest of my vitals were good. I refused to go to the hospital and against the physician’s advice I drove myself home.

Several positive notes about the entire I met several caring people  I wouldn’t have connected with otherwise and when I was almost ready to leave, I was able to pay for my purchases at the courtesy desk and didn’t have to return to the checkout lines.

PS I am finding a few sore spots from the fall.

 

Haunted Holidays

One year during the holidays we had two deaths while I worked at Frick Hospital. They seemed to point to suicides. One was on Christmas Eve and the other on New Year’s Eve. Both have haunted me over the years and I was “fortunate” enough to have worked both evenings.

It was Christmas Eve. I was working in the emergency department, when we received a call from an inbound ambulance. It was trauma victim from a motor vehicle accident. We only knew that it was a head on collision between a car and a large truck. We got the rest of the story when the ambulance crew arrived. This middle aged male had been traveling the wrong way down a four lane, divided highway. There was little that we could do. He had massive trauma to his head, legs, and chest.

When we identified the driver, we found that he was the husband of one of our medical/ surgical nurses. She was one with whom I had worked the nightshift several years earlier. The couple was going through a divorce. They had two sons. One was eleven and the other was thirteen. Their grief affected the whole hospital.

Actually it affected the whole town. It was as though someone had dimmed or even extinguished the Christmas spirit. Shortly after the funeral, the nurse quit her job at our hospital, sold her home, and moved away.

The second suicide occurred on New Year’s Eve. Again I was on duty. The ambulance crew called in an abbreviated report. They’d found an unresponsive young man in his garage with the car’s engine running. He’d been found slumped over the steering wheel. Not knowing how long he had been there, the ambulance crew attempted to revive him and brought him to the hospital.

He was a well known person in the community and the ambulance crew did all they could to resuscitate hem. We continued for a short while after his arrival, but to no avail. It was rumored that he was heavily in debt. He left behind a lovely young wife to deal with the chaos he left behind. They had a new house and a new baby, but with all she had, she’d lost so much.

The tragedy of these deaths extinguished the Christmas lights and silenced the New Year’s bells for me that year. When I look back, I remember nothing more about that holiday season than those two deaths and the grief and sympathy for the two families.