Okay, I admit it.
I am scared.
Scared scared scared. Terrified.
I spent the most of the day writing letters to my loved ones and putting them in the bottom of my hospital bag.
This 86.6% of a stroke happening to me has got me scared. I am NOT a 14.4% HALF FULL GLASS KIND OF survival person. I am a 86.6% DEAD kind of person.
I packed up some of my favorite rubber stamps for a friend who loves the snow; and have left directions for Lisi to mail them to her. I know she will get a lot of pleasure from the thought.
I wrote down memories and curled them into tight paper rolls and put them in jars for my daughter, son and best friends….I had really had a lot, so some of the jars have way more than 52. I just wish that I could have thought up more because they added so much to my life.
I even made a stash and knitting box for my best friend…just in case. I have some really good stuff and I know she can use it all/give it away or set it on fire. I just don’t want it to get packed away and dragged around for the rest of Lisi’s life.
On the one hand, it is a relief to have a diagnosis.
On the other, it is really scary.
The good thing is that I don’t have to fight for drugs.
The bad thing is that I NEED drugs to navigate the next week.
However the non-drug directions Dr. Spock gave me? Piffle. I’m not supposed to eat crap. I’m not to drink anything but water or cranberry juice. See’s chocolates? Wait on them until after.
And make sure I take the pills prescribed and ONLY prescribed exactly when prescribed.
Well. I don’t have a lot of faith in this particular aspect of medical knowledge and figure I can’t possibly hurt myself any more than Dr. Benydryl managed to.
Toss that directive right out the window. It is not as if I live 5 minutes AWAY from the medical center. A lot of things can happen in 12 hours. And besides, Dr. Spock is not up in the middle of the night with a Craftman’s drill in his head now, is he?
He probably sleeps the sleep of the just, while I an up all night either crying, sobbing or wondering if I should drive myself to the ER or call some one to take me.
So if I want to eat red hot Cheeto’s in the middle of the night, that is EXACTLY what I’m going to do. With a chaser of 7-Up.