I am re-running…again…my brush with death. I am fascinated as those around me discuss the conversations they had that night and all the activity going on. I am totally aware of what a difficult time it must have been but where was I? What had happened to me? Why was none of it familiar? A ventilator? really?
However much I try not to dwell; feel sorry for myself; fester in all that continues to be taken from me and thrown at me…it is even harder to lose the noxious residue from the experience.
Next staging posts are 5 day ECG; CT scan and mamogram. It has proved impossible not to research the possibilities of what the ECG might reveal. It seems, to my very unclinical eye, that if anything is detected then the only thing likely to have caused as big an event as the one I experienced, is likely to need “treatment”. The specious likelihood of me signing up for another hospital specialty hangs there. I am feeling manouevred into a course of action I was deliberately avoiding. Endless waiting rooms, tests, ambivalent results – no…really not for me…BUT no diagnosis no travel.
…and, as for euphemisms, I remain unsure what word I am covering up. Some suggest that I had a faint others a seizure (albeit asymptomatic). If past performance is anything to go by it will be something named “other” and no need to euphemise about my nom de plume, other.