{"id":2461,"date":"2021-07-29T18:22:05","date_gmt":"2021-07-29T18:22:05","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/?p=2461"},"modified":"2021-07-30T18:00:02","modified_gmt":"2021-07-30T18:00:02","slug":"recovery-july-20","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/2021\/07\/29\/recovery-july-20\/","title":{"rendered":"Recovery – July 20"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Tuesday, July 2o<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Have I mentioned in this log that I am extremely sensitive to stimulants and sedatives? I noticed before Monday evening that the sleep drops the doctor gave me periodically made me walk funny, and there were a couple of times I leaned against the wardrobe while pacing the hall and fell asleep. I had been warned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Because I had slept many naps on Monday, I was concerned that I’d have problems sleeping, so machismo got the best of me and I took a half dose of the sleeping medicine. The strongest dose I had taken up to then was a quarter and that fairly knocked me out. Machismo prevailed again when I had to pee at four on Tuesday morning, and instead of using the pappagallo<\/em> that sat on the bedside table, I insisted on getting up and groping my way to the bathroom. Just after entering, my walk went funny, I fell, gashed my forehead, turned, tried to get up, fell backwards and broke two ribs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next few minutes were interesting. In terms familiar to those who follow my reports on the Parkinson’s Recovery Project,<\/a> I went into Pause Mode. I became extremely focussed, there was no panic or energy wasted on anything unnecessary. There was a lot of blood from the head injury, and it didn’t bother me at all (a guy who has grown faint, crawling to the floor of the grange hall that was screening it, while watching a black and white film in which a character cuts himself). I adjusted my mode of crawling to take advantage of the bathmats that would follow me and provide traction. I called the two people whose phones might be on, had keys, and lived nearby. I reached Roman, he was on his way before he put down his phone. I leaned against the bed, breathed deeply, and relaxed. I was safe. It was only a matter of minutes. Then I noticed that my back really, really hurt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Roman and the ambulance arrived together. My new pair of shorts of which I was so proud was cut off my body, I was put into a diaper, my head was wrapped, and I was strapped onto a hard plastic pallet to be carried every which way down three flights to the street. The ride to the hospital felt quicker than I expected. There, they washed, and stitched, and organized the lump of flesh thrown so suddenly into their care, they send me through an MRI, then up to a room in general medicine. I was given an IV of a painkiller, and I fell asleep. Previous worries about not sleeping were painted absurd.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I woke, the kind and smiling face of my new doctor greeted me on one side, and that of an orange clad nurse on the other. My doctor’s smile is conjecture, as his face was covered with a mask, but his eyes attested. He has a beautiful smile, and as if to give me its benefit, he briefly pulled down his mask. It was sheer joy to see him. He explained that I’d had several stitches (numbers weren’t my thing at that moment) and that I’d broken my wrist which explained the back pain. I rotated my right hand, and considered the possibility wilder than anything I’d lately learned from Chinese medicine. He told me I’d be in for at least ten days, to rest, and not to worry. He probably said other stuff too, but after hearing ten days my capacity for mental absorption suddenly abandoned me. I blurted that I wanted to be given no anti-Parkinson’s drugs. He agreed.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then I was alone. I was an American in central Italy without his phone. Without his id card, health system card, any money, his hearing aides, any clothes, or even a memorized phone number of a friend. I wondered how all that would be resolved, but had not quite enough energy to worry for more than a minute at a time. I slept, was given IV’s, fed food, and washed. That evening Roman walked in with a smile, some clothes, all my official documents, and my phone. He held my hand and shook his head, said something in his Ukrainian-accented Italian, and gave me a tour of my regained identity. He looked absolutely angelic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It wasn’t until Wednesday sometime that I realized the broken wrist was actually a rib, and a call from Katrin clarified that there were two. The healing: to lie flat on my back at all times for at least ten days.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I’m writing this on the tenth day. This evening I was given the honor of an arm chair. If all goes well tomorrow, I’ll be released on Saturday. If not, Monday. The diary will pick up again as soon as I have enough chair time to catch up. Writing or talking on my phone from bed is cruelty enough, using my notebook is impossible. Anyway, my body is mending, and I am able to write again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And my friends have been amazing. So has the crowd of nurses. Andiamo avanti!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Tuesday, July 2o Have I mentioned in this log that I am extremely sensitive to stimulants and sedatives? I noticed before Monday evening that the sleep drops the doctor gave me periodically made me walk funny, and there were a couple of times I leaned against the wardrobe while pacing the hall and fell asleep. … Continue reading Recovery – July 20<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2462,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[10],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2461"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2461"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2461\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2468,"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2461\/revisions\/2468"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2462"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2461"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2461"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2461"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}