Writing up the Leftie

Although yesterday morning I started out with a normal temperature, it didn't take long for it to climb to 102.7 degrees. Indeed, that seems to be a daily process over the last six weeks. I've talked to doctors, I've visited doctors, I've complained - in person and via e-mail - at doctors, but nobody seems willing or able to give me a diagnosis at present.

But in addition to the persistent fever, I hit a point of dehydration in the afternoon that could no longer be ignored. Frankly, I knew I was approaching it for several days, but hoped it would go away. (I do that every time... stupid! as I hit myself upside the head.) Or that I could hold out until next week when I could make arrangements with Dr. V- for rehydration in Cedars Sinai's Procedure room rather than the alternative visit to ER. But I realized that it was not going to wait. I was experiencing the traditional short circuit of the brain along with other symptoms, and off I went.

For a Saturday night, the ER was not bad. My wait to be seen was only a little over an hour, and I actually got an honest-to-gawd room. A conference with the ER doc, and I was quickly hooked up to the first of two bags of fluid which I would be given.

I slept pretty-much through the first bag and the first half of the 2nd bag. Then, as is typical when I am receiving much-needed fluids, I suddenly woke up, brain engaged. Took a good look around the room. And noticed this:

Be Sure You Have
The Five Rights (of patient care)

Patient
Time
Route
Dose
Drug

Well, it was a good idea. Really it was. But what was wrong with this picture is that the five rights are written on a left hand!

When 'Omar' came in to check on me, he knew immediately that I was improving becuase I pointed out the issue to him. He was quite amused, even as I protested that surely I wasn't the first to have noticed. (I have a feeling that maybe I was, or at least the first to mention it.) He managed to twist his right hand around against the picture in a contorted manner with a big grin on his face to prove that they had the hand correct, but I then pointed out to him that it was clearly a handprint on the page and no, it was a left hand for sure.

Well, I asked and received permission to take a picture of that sign and make fun of it. And so I did. But on the trip home from the hospital, I realized one fact that was bigger than the issue of righty or lefty.

Cedars Sinai is a Jewish Hospital. In keeping with the tradition, the five rights had been written correctly. They read from right to left. Even as they used the wrong hand to illustrate their point, the got the bigger picture right.

* * * * *
And now, the conclusion of the Brownie Dilema.

Out of four responses, I received two actionable requests for where those brownies should go. Janel wanted them to go to Russell's Mom who is well deserving indeed.

Adele wanted me to send them to Diane and Grace who recently lost their home to the fires in Northern Los Angeles. Also very deserving.

Well, because I was in the hospital last night instead of attending the party that I was supposed to go to, the original brownies are still in the back of Eric's car. And so there is not even a choice to be made.

I will send the new box out to Russell's Mom as soon as I get shipping information from Janel. I will send the original box (only a few days old) on to Diane and Grace as soon as I find out from Adele where their temporary living location is at.

And I will do my best to keep my commitment to Claudia to eat mostly healthy this trying month of December. At this point, the only real party I was scheduled to attend has passed, and there's only Christmas Day (and maybe New Year's Eve) to worry about. Since I intend to make a lasagna for Christmas in advance and freeze it in deference to the Cimzia Injections that I will be getting on December 24, Christmas should not be a problem. (I'll ask Eric's family to provide a salad, and maybe get Mom to do dessert.) Nothing is yet planned for New Years, so I'll just see how it goes.

Yes, I gained weight as a result of the fluids received yesterday. And also the Hershey Bar they brought me when I complained that I had been there for hours and hours and was getting hungry. Sorry Claudia. It was all they had to offer me in ER and I was really REALLY hungry. It was 310 calories in all. And when did a Hershey Bar turn into such positively awful chocolate? O.M.G! I will go hungry the next time rather than accept it.

A Big Hand for Eric

Eric & I planned to get together today, mostly just to be together and to do our respective marketing, but at 11 am (when we were supposed to meet), I got a phone call from him. Gabby, his ten-year-old daughter was sick and home from school. Not really sick enough to be condemned to bed, but just enough to accompany him to my home. Was that OK? Well, we quickly determined that she was likely not contagious, so I gave the go-ahead and they showed up shortly thereafter.

I am still very weak, and having done my laundry before their arrival, I was pretty-much done. Gabby entertained herself, Eric busied himself on the computer, and I lay in bed complaining about my current state of affairs. But after a couple of hours of this, the bottom line was it was lunch time, I was hungry, Gabby was hungry, and Eric could eat. I suggested that we just run over to Gelsons (a local upscale market with all sorts of in-store eating amenities) and then go next door to Vons for shopping from there. They both agreed.

We each got what we wanted to eat (Eric a sandwich, Gabby had a trip through the salad bar, and I had sushi) and sat down in their cafe section for lunch. Then Gabby needed to run up the stairs for the ladies room which conveniently were located about 10 feet from where we were sitting. Eric gave her permission to go ahead and she was gone and back in a flash.

As she settled back in, I eyed the great pile of Halloween Candy located right between the front door of the store and the Cafe, and suddenly a memory of my father jumped into my mind. To make a long story short, he used to taunt my little sister L- about a hand that would come out of the toilet when you would sit down to go and pull you under. I couldn't resist. I asked Gabby if "the hand" had tried to grab her.

She gave me a very sceptical look like she was saying "Yeah, right." and didn't reply. I insisted that Gelsons installs one in the toilet every Halloween for that very purpose. Gabby looked at the Halloween Display and then at me, not believing me in the least, but at least willing to listen. And Eric took it from there.

"Did you know that the Hand usually pinches people's bottoms, but only started grabbing them a year or two ago?" he asked the quizzical Gabby. "But originally, it would bypass the bottoms all together and go right for your pants pocket to steal your wallet."

At this point, Gabby was hooked. "Wouldn't the money get wet?" she asked.

Eric ignored her question. "Do you know what that Hand would buy with all of the money that it stole?" he asked her. "Gloves. Gloves are the only thing that a hand would ever have any use for." (I decided not to point out that a hand could also use rings. An occasional manicure. Or maybe Hand Lotion) I replied that the Hand was ripped off every time it made a purchase because "a" hand would only need one glove, but they are always sold in pairs.

He went on. "The Hand is the saddest thing on earth. It finally gave up stealing wallets and moved on to pinching bottoms. And do you know why the Hand is always so sad?"

Gabby shook her head no. We were both waiting with baited breath for the answer.

Eric looked very grave. He lowered his voice; he lowered his eyes. And he answered his own question softly. "Everybody always wants the one thing that they can't have. The Hand is always sad because it can never clap."

Gabby tried it out, clapping her hands. We pointed out that she used two hands and the hand only had one. She batted at the air with only her left hand a couple of times, I choked back a chuckle, and we went on to discuss other business of the day.