Surgery--Again

Back from Bellevue. Had a breathing test.

Rhetorical question: Why is the lab conducting the breathing tests about seven miles from the elevators? If it was any farther, it wouldn't have been in the building. In theory, the tests are conducted on people who have problems breathing. When you add the fifteen miles to get out of the building, it's close to a marathon.

The tests were hard and exhausting. Different kinds of breathing, all of which end with my breathing out. If I could breathe out for the length of time they wanted me to breathe out, I wouldn't have a breathing problem. However, I did not pass out.

Problem: The nose clips (you're not allowed to breathe through your nose) kept sliding off. Even when the tech taped them on. We went through six sets of clips. I ended up holding my nose. It's always something.

I'll get the results in a few weeks when I see the asthma doc.

Rhetorical answer......they screen out those not worth testing by making it seven miles.

So you want they should make things easy? What type of silliness is infiltrating that head of yours to think they'd put anything within easy reach. Sheesh!
As rabbit said, they are weeding out those who aren't worth the time of testing...or apparently affixing nose clips.

Sorry to read they are making it so complicated and stressful but at least by the time you arrived you knew you could breath (s0mewhat) and by the time you left you knew your legs work operating properly.

Thing about nose clips is they aren't designed for the normal nose, good thing you brought your fingers with you.

Best of everything, hoping for good or at least goodish results.

Wabbit, So if you drop dead on your way to the test, I guess you're not worth testing. Good point.

Sturgis, Silliness hasn't infiltrated my head. It's a natural part of my head makeup. By the time I arrived, I couldn't breathe. I was having a bad day. I called to ask if I could use an inhaler before I left the house. Preferably not. So I didn't.

When I called, I said I had a question. The woman on the phone said, "okely, dokely." Without missing a beat, I said, "Goodely oodely." A new friend. And that man wonders what kind of silliness is in my head.

Yeh.

I had this discussion with my eye doc, who is acquainted with the people in charge in the somewhere up above - re having benches*. I was pissed off, first, on the lack of benches outside (it can be very hot on a long walk here) and then inside. Diane and I walked with Bob to Cardiology for his coumadin tests, she far more often than me with them. Chihuahua. I didn't notice any wheel chairs being available. They probably are, but - who knows? Also, Bob was cranky and just wanted to move, in any case.

Eye doc gave me the name of the person in charge of all this stuff and I failed to follow through (I just spelled that as threw, I need to be demoted). Also, benches appeared outside, not by my comment, but they were part of a plan.

Well, now , too many damned benches outside, snort.

I once had in mind looking at the whole hospital from a not very healthy visitor's view (and of course, a patient's) but I sputtered re my intentions.

I probably should still do that, and write an article to the ether.

*I well remember going with our friend Harvey to see the newly opened Getty Museum (don't get me started). Harvey was a walking mess healthwise even when I first met him, but had other attributes, such as knowledge and wit. He had a semi-akita that Candace Bergen stopped him to talk about when driving by while he was trying to walk him. He was in love again, natch.

In my mind that is a moush of terrific and worrying (his control) and sad.
Harvey loved dogs. A wolf or part wolf met his children at the bus and went home with them, many years earlier, back in Massachusetts.
Sausages.

Later that wolfdog was shot.


Anyway, Harvey, who could usually get along walking well enough by himself, that sliver of well enough, had trouble getting along in the designed garden. I think that day there was only one bench on the whole zig zag.

Benches. Hah! No benches anywhere except at the back entrance. When I got off the elevator, I went to the section marked West. Why. That's what the instructions said. I ran into a guard. Asked him for directions. Nope, I had to go north before I got to west. He said I shouldn't be there alone. Panting like crazy.

PS: I lost ten pounds and got another inch and half shorter. The pounds--okely dokely. The shortness. I'm having a fit. I'm PO'd. I'm obsessing. I can't be short.

Two lovely posts! You and Sturgis made me laugh.

You're not SHORT. Just SHORTER.

Your legs still reach the ground, nyet? When they don't....when you just hover...THEN we worry.

The incredible shrinking woman you aren't already.

Bunny, If I start hovering, I won't give a damn about short. But I am obsessing. I used to be a soupcon away from 5'7". Now I'm a soupcon away from petite. What's a soupcon? Dunno, but it sounds right.

I used to take great pride in being tall. Size places in school. I was always at the end of the line.

I'll calm down eventually. Or maybe not.

This would make my mother happy. She thought I was too tall. She also thought I was too smart and too outspoken. All my best qualities were negatives in her book.

Great post.

When I was in the horse pistol (is it Andy that says that?) recently for those days of tests that turned out to be negative, one of the aides questioned that I am 5'5" or 5-4 3/4.. that I had put on the form. I used to be 5-5 1/2 but I know the number is going downward.
She said I couldn't be as she was 5'5" and I was shorter than she is. Cheeky, eh? Huh, I said, I haven't measured my height lately, you could be right.

So, when I went to the primary doctor's office a few days later, I got them to measure my height. The aide was mistaken.

So, shortness can be a state of mind of the beholder.

Back from Bellevue. Saw the asthma doc. My doctor didn't come in today, so there was a backup. Waited two hours to see another doc. Wanted to know the results of my breathing tests. Nobody ever sent them to the asthma people! He got some info over the phone. No change from the last test.

He was concerned that I'm not taking all my meds. I just got paid for a job. I'll fill one of the prescriptions.

The zipper on my bag broke. Tres upset. I was planning to go to the DMV after my appointment to get my nondriver's driver's license renewed. I was carrying around original documents for ID. Got noivous. Came home. I'll go to the DMV either tomorrow or Friday. Gotta get the valid ID. I need to get my taxes done. The only place that does them for free in nontax season is the IRS, which requires valid ID. The deadline is next week! And the IRS is closed. Closed!

So I came out of the hospital and saw that somebody was making a movie, tv show, whatever. I went into a hospital with Bellevue signs all over the place and came out to All Saints Hospital signs.

Phooey on today.

You managed to end a somewhat 'down' day with a 'ta da' flourish, Roberta! I like it that you went into Bellevue and came out of All Saints - only in America!!!

Not surprised that the doctor was concerned about you not taking your meds - I'm concerned! The more I read posts like yours. the more I am grateful for our much maligned National Health Service!

Two weeks ago, my husband woke with a flashing light, and 'floaters', in one eye. To cut a long story short, he phoned our local health centre at 8am, got an appointment to see our doctor at 9.40am, was sent straight to Casualty with a letter of referral to the Eye Unit of our local hospital, and by 11.4oam had seen an eye surgeon and received treatment. He was home by 12 noon. All free! He has a tear in the retina which may lead to a detached retina eventually, but if he fears this is happening, he has to return to the Eye Unit immediately and they'll operate if necessary - again, free!

Just wish you had the NHS in New York!

Phooey, phibby, phea, phea.

I had floaters before this (part of my eye mishugas) but at one point I had four tears in the retina (that was the day after the cataract surgery gone wrong in a handbasket, sending the lens bits to the back of the eye). Emergency surgery after, but not all that bad to go through once safely there. I was rushed in the night through about 200 miles of forest to a vitrectomist, or some such specialty, operated on, on a Sunday early morning, after the original surgeon had done a cleanup of the vitreous fluid as best he could.

Lots of stuff, I see, online about vitrectomy and floaters. I'll have to read up, no opinion from me, except that I needed it badly, that eye's pressure was wildly high, I took meds once an hour that night and on that night ride, and the surgery worked for me. That was nine years ago.

I also don't know if I had the tears before all that. It might be in the chart from the first surgeon but I'm not interested in communicating now.

Not to scare you, I don't know what one tear means re proper treatment.

I should add that I posted to emphasize that for me, the operation (vitrectomy) itself was easy and recovery was very fast.. but I fell into talking about my own drama (again yet).

Despite not feeling terrific, I decided to go to the DMV. Let's face it. I'm never gonna feel like going. I take a cab. Midtown traffic would make a room in Dante's Inferno seem heavenly. Construction. Barricades. Detours. Dead ends. The ride took more than twice as long as it should have and cost a lot.

I got out of the cab about a block early. I couldn't stand to be in the car another minute. I walked to where I thought I would find the DMV. Address confusion. I crossed the street. No building numbers. General confusion. Hey, I'm a native New Yorker. I ain't lost. From across the street I see that inside a lobby is a sign for the DMV. I get there and get to the right floor. I'm told to get on the photo line. I do. Two people ahead of me. Not bad.

I had called ahead to find out what kind of ID I needed to bring. Six pieces of ID. I had them all with me. I give them to the man who's gonna take my picture. He goes through the IDs. Uh oh. I brought a tax form 1099. I didn't have a W2. Form 1099 is not acceptable. I have only five IDs. I start rummaging around in my wallet for something else that would work. No dice. I'm getting a little agitated. I'm not angry with the man. He's doing his job, I guess. I'm angry at the situation. He informs me that things tightened up after 9/11. Then he tells me to go home. I said that I wasn't sure if I had any additional IDs. He said that if this were the case, I couldn't get my nondriver's driver's license.

I gather everything together and head out. A woman calls me over. She couldn't help but overhear the conversation. She tells me I'm not leaving. She gives me a number and tells me to go see a supervisor. I do. Not a long wait. He looks at my five IDs and stamps my application approved. He tells me to get back in the photo line.

Now there are seven people ahead of me. Then the woman who sent me to the supervisor calls me to the head of the line. She opens a closed photo place and tells me to spruce up cuz I'm getting my picture taken. I spruce. She clicks. I now view this woman as an angel.

Than I gotta go pay and get final clearance. A relatively long wait. I pay. I'm cleared. I'm outta there.

I decide to go west even though I live east. East is beyond congested. It's also taxi shift change time. This means that most of the cabs will be off duty.

I walk farther than I usually can. I get to the uptown street I'm aiming for. I see an off duty cab with people lined up at the window. If you tell the driver where you're going, if it's convenient for him, he'll take you. Three people talked to the driver. Three shakes of the head. I hobble up to the window. I say where I'm going. He tells me to get in. No traffic (I'm far west.)

I was reminded of the time I was stranded in front of Bellevue Hospital in the rain for several hours. A man helped me. He wouldn't leave until I was in a vehicle on my way home. I thought he was an angel. The woman at the DMV. Another angel.

Boida has whatever the hell a non-driver driver's licence is! yay!

Hooray for angels!

Angels in America......

I get the fact that you met some angels - that's great!

But I'm confused about the non-driver's driver's licence - I googled it, and it said the non-driver ID is issued solely for the purpose of providing identification and is not a license to drive. Okay - I get that, sort of, but if you already have five pieces of identification (!) why on earth do you need another? Soooo confusing!

Glad the day turned out so well for you though!