Sleeping Late Is Only Enjoyable if You Can Wake Up
I am an early riser. I just enjoy sitting and relaxing with my cereal and coffee instead of rushing out to my office.
After all, I go into the office late every morning, and my boss never complains. By now, he’s accustomed to my bad habits.
Barbara usually sleeps a little later, so she was surprised to find me sound asleep.
Since something similar took place about four years ago, it shook her up, especially when no attempt to awaken me succeeded.
She finally had to call an ambulance and follow it to the hospital emergency room.
She was confident she was making the best possible decision. Had I been conscious, I’m sure I would have agreed.
After about four hours, she knew we were in the wrong place. Even though I was unconscious and not bothering anyone, they chose to restrain me.
When I finally began to awaken, I needed to use the bathroom, and they refused to release the restraints or accommodate my needs in any reasonable manner.
Finally, a doctor came in for a few moments. Barbara was not impressed with his condition or his apparent lack of interest in helping me. He soon left without offering any assistance.
When he left, Barbara unbound me sufficiently to sit up and assisted me with a container. This wasn’t an easy task for a woman who will be 85 on Saturday.
It was a weekend, and it seemed that at this hospital you had to wait until Monday before anyone took a moment to help you.
Barbara hadn’t eaten anything, and I was asleep, so she managed a quick trip to the cafeteria, where she found a poor selection and wound up with a stale sandwich that she was unable to eat.
Then they asked her to take a number to get back into the emergency room with me, and she finally managed to get back. It became obvious that I wasn’t getting any help before Monday.
When a male nurse came in, Barbara told him she wanted to take me home, and he told her she had the right to take me home whenever she chose. She asked him to send a wheelchair to the room.
It took some time, but they finally brought a wheelchair, left it at the door, and walked off.
No one offered to help, but Barbara managed to put me in the wheelchair and pushed me to the parking lot. She left me under a shade tree and went off to find the car.
It was about 2 p.m. in the afternoon, with people walking all over the place, and the only offer to help she got was from an old man our age. She thanked him and said she could handle it, which she did.
She took me home, and I slept all afternoon.
Almost four years earlier, I had experienced something similar with much better luck at that hospital, so I already had a neurologist I could visit for a checkup. He updated my medication plan for what he believed was a seizure.
He doesn’t know for certain, but there is no evidence of anything else. And the first time, there were four neurologists at my side in the hospital who had the same conclusion.
Since there isn’t a single clue as to what it might have been, a seizure it is.
At the end of my adventure, I wound up with my medication and instructions to avoid driving for three months.
That was a little upsetting at first, but in retrospect, having a chauffeur for three months won't be too bad.
I can’t imagine what I would have done without Barbara. She’s not only a great author, but now she has become my chauffeur. Some people have all the luck.
As for me, I'm back in my office writing and publishing with no interruption planned.