After chatting about shiftwork last week, I planned to spend this week talking about why we’re working longer and later hours. But then some stuff cropped up, and there’s going to have to be a change to our scheduled programming.
First, here’s LongSufferingReaderOfTheBlogPaul’s favourite track of 2018 [sic], regardless.
I mentioned once that I had let slip to Longsufferinggirlfriendoftheblogbeth that “I didn’t solely come back from [stroke-y] death because I had to see her one more time. I wanted to see her one more time, and tell her that everything was going to be OK.”
And that that was a a lie, solely to the extent I didn’t think I was going to survive.
I read something last week that, had I known it at the time, would have meant I could have delivered the message with a clear conscience. Continue reading Something Fishy→
Last Monday, I went to the Western General Hospital for a CT scan. In some ways, it was quite similar to going to Methodist in Brooklyn. The NHS has signs up informing patients of the same sort of stroke-related stuff that the American Stroke Association is always — quite rightly — banging on about.
This past Friday, I resumed my conversation with mortality. It had been on the way, I suppose, since Beth had first mentioned what a pleasant time she’d had attending her first aneurysm awareness meeting. I’ve since been to one myself, and discovered from fellow attendees that a ruptured aneurysm is quite similar to a hemorrhagic stroke. That is, getting wheeled into the ER, unresponsive, late on a weekend evening, with potentially catastrophic results, and, generally, something to be avoided. Anyway, I guess that was Beth’s way of gently getting me used to the fact that the work-ups from my stroke had revealed that I had at least one aneurysm. Continue reading The Cure / Not The Cure, or, My Aneurysm→