Many years ago I wrote a song called, “Home Again, Right Where I Belong.” Today that song is ringing true.
As many of my faithful readers know, I was once more rushed to the Emergency Room on Sunday. First it was to Sullivan Community Hospital then transferred up to Regional Hospital for a short stay.
A bad bacterial infection had attacked me Friday evening after I had taken it to the limit. I had hoped to hang in there until Monday and call the doctor.
It was not meant to be.
The plan was to go to the ER, get stabilized and a script for an antibiotic. But on Saturday night, my fever spiked to 103.7. The ER doc, Dr. Oates, contacted my pulmonologist, Dr. Deshpande.
Next thing I know I was transferred to Regional. The techs took me straight to my room. Within 10 minutes, Dr. Deshpande was there. After heavy quantities of high dosage antibiotics and super-strong cortisteriod, I was sprung yesterday afternoon.
Instead of the usual dosage of 500 mg of levoquin, I came home with 750 mg to take for five days.
But I am home.
Now as anyone who has been deluged with massive intravenous antibiotics knows, once stopped, it sure can clean out a body’s system. Such has been the case since yesterday.
Now it is getting life back to normal.
That’s the way it is in Mark’s Den on this Hump Day.
And how is your Wednesday going?
As the ball dropped in New York City’s Time Square, 2015 dawned filled with promise – promise that turned to ashes in too short of a time.
Physically and mentally, as this year began, it had an aura that this would be the best year for my over all health that I had enjoyed in well over a decade. The ebullience which ran through the corridors of mind and the hallways of my body portended a year like I had thought would never come again.
The energy, the pep, was coursing through my veins. The abyss upon which I had stood for too long seemed to melt away into a nightmare dispelled by a new day and a new year.
Then the pendulum swung violently from serenity and happiness to the extreme of full scale physical assault.
My sense of well being dissipated in an instant as unexplained supraventricular tachycardia played havoc with my body. At times I wondered if I would ever recover.
On four instances, the medical staff at Regional Hospital had to stop and restart my heart. A heart cath was not able to reveal what the problem may be.
As quickly as the pendulum swung to the dark side, it moved again this time to shades of clover and sunshine. But that was only with my physical body.
Mentally, the night continued to encroach at times as the winter gave way to spring.
At times in desperation I would voice my desire to quit, stop trying.
Then came the bombshell at the end of May. Iohn was leaving me after 10 1/2 years together.
Thanks to family and special angels I was able to finally exodus the Cornfield and find relief and strength in the Desert – at least for a few months.
For the next few months, slowly I returned to what is normal for me.
Then circumstances beyond my control made my existence in the paradise of the Desert threatening. I had no choice, but to return to the Cornfield.
Mom and other members of the family made sure I had what I needed to set up house in my new Mark’s Den.
All was looking well as 2015 was edging near to the end.
I was wrong.
On the Tuesday night/Wednesday morning before Christmas, once more I found myself in Regional Hospital.
When I was back – back for me that is – I was breathing better.
I was becoming restless. I was ready to come home.
On Friday, Christmas Day, I was released home from the hospital. Mom and Bill picked me up and took me to Mark’s Den.
I have managed now for three days and four nights to stay out of the hospital, recovering slowly.
For the past few days, I am back to breathing near normal with the use of oxygen at home.
I am taking it one day at a time.
The new year now beckons.
The desire to continue to battle on is questionable. I am tired of the fight, the struggle.
From the Cornfield, these last four years or so, I could not have made it alone.
There were some special people, esepcially this year, who have been there – often in private messages, cards sent snail mail and even phone calls – at the right moment.
These people, mostly unknown on a personal, face-to-face, level, a part of the online community, were fulll of surprise and blessing.
There was family who have been there when least expected. Family who have made sure being back in the Cornfield, I have my needs.
Without these people I could not have made it.
To them I am thankful and wish the best year to come.
Once more – THANK YOU!!!!
Mark and Chooey
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
2016 – BRING IT ON
In the middle of the night – Tuesday, December 22, and Wednesday, December 23, – I found myself waking in total respiratory distress. I managed to call 911 and get an ambulance dispatched.
Next thing you know I am in the Emergency Room at Sullivan Community Hospital. In another hour or so I was transported directly as in-patient to Regional Hospital in Terre Haute.
This made the second Christmas week in a row, including Christmas Day, I have spent in the hospital.
Those who follow my writing know that I have had a premonition for a couple of weeks I may have a relapse. My feeling proved true.
I am home now. After Mom and Bill, how picked me up, dropped me off at home I had a bit of a panic.
The nose piece I need to use the oxygen condsenser was not in the apartment. The EMTs used mine when transporting me to the ER. After two phone calls, the EMTS were back and supplied me with the piece I needed to breathe.
Chooey was beside himself seeing his Daddy home. Dad has been checking on him, feeding/watering him and taking him out. Now am out of the hospital, but having to take it very easy for a few days.
The doc upped my prednisone big time, plus gave me a script for a strong antibiotic. Have to use the air as much as possible – especially whenever I get up to walk.
Plan to sleep in my recliner for the next couple of nights. Easier than trying to sleep in the bed. Both the Sons and the Daughters-in-law checked in on me via text. As did my sister, Leticia, and Mom called.
Dad would stop by and Susie check on me by text as well as meeting us to give me my keys on the way home.
Thank you to all my online friends who checked on me on Facebook as well as by email.
This old bird isn’t down for the count yet. That’s the way it is this Christmas Night in Mark’s Den.
And I hope each of you had a wonderful and blessed day with family and friends.
At times I wonder why I persist.
Yet, no matter the struggle, the skirmish, like the Energizer bunny, I keep going and going and going.
With the changes with CNN’s iReport web site, my connection with the outer world has been brought to a new low. No longer am I getting feedback, getting interaction with other humans.
Yes, I continue to write my posts here Inside My Mind.
Yes, I continue to offer my opinion at From the Cornfield.
Yes, I continue to recap the headlines and current events with Kernels From the Cornfield.
But to what end?
For some reason, people do not comment on my blog posts. People do not seem to read those posts.
The interaction, the reaction, the back and forth came when I shared my thoughts, my writings on iReport.
Now that is gone.
It is not known if it will ever be again.
Though I have been told a new uploader will be added in December to iReport, will it actually allow for posts or will it only be those handpicked by CNN for stories it is covering and only a slight snippet?
Will it eventually once more allow users to comment and interact with one another?
Yes, an online friend, a fellow iReporter, a Facebook contact has begun a group to allow us to continue to share as we did on iReport, but through the social media’s Facebook.
Though only in its second week, the feedback, the commentary has yet to develop. Nor are there signs that will come to pass any time soon.
While my writing tends to be therapeutic for me, without the tete a tete, how therapeutic can it be?
I am becoming more and more an island unto myself, a solitary figure more alone as each day dawns.
That is one of the reasons fro setting up Citizen Journalists Live. The purpose is to try and fill the void left as CNN has abandoned its experiment with citizen journalism as we knew it. What is left at iReport is a quick picture here or there with no interaction, no commentary.
My hope is that others will join Slick Nick, our erstwhile Bureau Chief in Rochester, New York, with posting. We do have some other former iReporters who have registered, but yet to share. I hope they will soon become the contributors I know they can be with excellent reports and paradigms of citizen journalists whom I know they are.
Thus I sit on this fist day of December in Mark’s Den pondering what the future may be of citizen journalism.
Words can be powerful. Words can bring peace or war. Words can provide solace or cut deep to the core. But it is not so much what is said that matters, but rather the actions of the one speaking which really count.
At times silence can be deafening and say much more than the spoken words. Silence is tacit action by non-action. Psychologists would call this being passive-aggressive.
So it is that when someone tells you something, it may soon good to the ear and momentarily to the mind. Yet, when the actions or non-actions do not convey what is spoken, it becomes a nightmare and can be quite hurtful.
Thus this Saturday morning in Mark’s Den, I am pondering the reality of actions versus the ethereal words belied.
Ever wanted to be a newspaper or magazine or television reporter, sharing your thoughts, photos or videos with the world?
Now you can!
Go visit Citizen Journalists Live. Register to be a citizen journalist sharing the world around you with the world at large.
Create your “news” story or opinion on a subject and post it for all to see.
Or upload your photos for others to enjoy.
Create a video of breaking news or your fur baby romping and playing. Upload it for others to ooh and ah over.
The link is: http://citizenjournalistslive.com
Become a member today and be on your way to being a citizen journalist!
That’s the way it is this rainy weekend morning in Mark’s Den.
And how is your Saturday going?