—A Bachelors Christmas—
I admit that I had been drinking on this occasion.
I was a bachelor, living alone, my house was empty, and it was Christmas Eve.
On the table next to my couch was a three-foot-tall Christmas tree with lights that change color. That was my only Christmas Decorations.
And…, I was a bit sad.
I was sickly and had been to the “Doc in a Box” twice for something going on with my body.
The Nurse Practitioner had gotten X-rays of my chest, and she said, both times, that I had the “Crud.”
My excuse for drinking was that the liquor helped loosen up the mucus and helped make me feel better. I just needed an excuse.
And, on Christmas Eve, I passed out in my bed. It was one of the few times I passed out inside the house instead of outside when drinking liquor.
On Christmas Morning, I wake up extremely sick.
I was coughing, sweating, cold, and my body ached.
I realized I had more symptoms than the previous night.
The main new symptom was I couldn’t breathe. I was struggling to breathe.
And for the first time in my life, I called 911 on myself.
I tell them I can’t breathe and am very sick.
They tell me that the EMTs are on the way.
In all my confusion, I realize I smell like stale liquor from my “binge” the night before, and I stunk.
“I have to get a shower before the ambulance gets here,” I try to say to my Dawg “Max.”
I’ve written about Max. He was my Black Lab during this Chapter of my life.
I was so weak and sick, though, I don’t know what words I said to Max.
“Okay, I’m just going to get out of bed like nothing is wrong and walk straight into the Bathroom and shower. It’s mind over matter, ‘Lynn.'”
I get out of bed, fall into the wall, and slide down the wall into the floor.
“Oh God. I’m gonna be ‘The Christmas Drunk’ that all the Doctors and Nurses talk about at the Hospital. I gotta get a shower.”
“Max” sniffs me and lies down next to me.
“Max, you’re going to have to stay at the vet for a while. I gotta board ya. I’m sorry, but I’m sick. Bad sick. I’ll be put away for a good while.”
Max’s head lay on the floor while his eyes looked at me.
“I gotta get a shower. They can’t know I was drinking last night.”
I push myself up off the floor and limp into the Bathroom.
In the Bathroom, I’m able to get naked, turn the shower on, and take the quickest shower in shower-taking history.”
I scrubbed, rubbed, washed, and shampooed—all in under Five Minutes.
The Hot Water felt great. The Steam, I believe, made it even harder to breathe, though.
I get out of the shower and put on some Pajama Pants and a shirt. Then I get the Hospital Bag I keep packed for emergency hospital visits.
I brush my teeth and cram my sockless feet into my shoes.
Finished, and give out, I slide down the wall into the floor again.
I hear someone calling me: “Hello? EMT’s. You here?”
“I’m back here. Come down to the room at the end of the hall,” I say, weak and breathlessly.
They come back and immediately start working on me.
I remember my Oxygen, or O2 Level, was in the 70s.
They immediately put me on Oxygen.
They knew by my appliances, such as Urostomy, that I was a “Special Patient.”
I pointed to my Hospital Bag.
“This, Sir?” He asked me.
“Yes… …My…Hosp-it-al…Bag…take…”
“Okay, I got it. Do you want me to put the dog outside?”
“Yes…p..lease…”
I knew my friend “Deely” would pick Max up for me and board him.
I already had a “tab” at the vet’s office, and they knew I went to the Hospital often.
I had also signed a release allowing Max to be a blood donor if the occasion should arise. And, on a side note, Max was a blood donor during several emergencies while at the vet’s office.
The EMTs put Max outside, put me on the stretcher, hung my Hospital Bag off the stretcher, wheeled me out, locked the house for me, and loaded me onto the Ambulance.
Those EMTs were my Heros.
They thought of everything that needed to be done to the house before taking their patient to the Hospital.
And they made sure everything was safe for me while I was away.
On the way to the Hospital, an IV was inserted, and Oxygen was increased. I remember them saying that my O2 was up to 80.
As the Ambulance drove the roads of South Huntsville, I noticed that they were taking the long route.
I admit that I am a lousy patient when I’m sick. I get upset. I get angry. I think it’s because I’m scared whenever something happens to me.
So, I noticed they were taking the long route to the Hospital.
“Hey,” I say in a soft, feeble voice.
“You’re trying to rack up mileage on me,” I say as my eyes start to close.
“The Parkway is quicker. You think I’m rich? You’re racking…up….” And I pass out.
—More on this by 12/29/2023
