If I had one thing I could send to my past self, it would be to prevent, come hell or high water, my wife walking into the ER on that day, roughly 2 years ago.
The day they did an (unrelated to what she was there for) blood test, and found a low-sodium problem. The day they decided to admit her for that, and then because dripping saline into someone isn't a great use of an ER bed from a cost perspective, they decided to do it quickly. Too quickly.
The day that she went into a coma, and although surfacing a couple of days later, the day that she was forever changed. Real life is not like the movies, you don't necessarily just "wake up".
The day that begat the horror of the last two years, screaming agony for hours on end which no OTC (or prescribed) painkiller could affect, the spasms as her body launched itself across the bed without conscious choice, and finally the day that she started to lose her mind.
The day that, as time wore on, she started to believe crazy things - that myself and her son had been replaced and were not "the real ones", that the medicine is poison, the crushing fear of, well, everything. The death of the woman I love in all but body.
She had a JD/MBA, was admitted to the bar, she had more letters after her name than I did, and I've got a dozen or so. She no longer exists as the person she was. She's been in and out of mental institutions over the last two years. The last time 911 responded, I heard one of the guys saying "Oh, yeah, I remember this place, with the avocado tree".
The extended-time stress of all this awoke LADA diabetes within me, so now I'm tethered to a pump, watching carbs like a hawk, desperately trying to give my kid a normal life. Or as normal as it can get. It became too much, and I had to quit the job, which means selling the house and moving out of Silicon Valley - it's too expensive to retire this early and live properly. So we're off back to the UK, shattered, torn, bewildered, broken, on 4th July.
All because a "hospital" wanted to make even more money. I feel I ought to leave a note, Stargate style, "Do not go to O'Connor Hospital, in San Jose".
Life is cheap, in the USA. Happiness is fleeting. Make the most of it while you have it.
spacedcowboy•9mo ago
The day they did an (unrelated to what she was there for) blood test, and found a low-sodium problem. The day they decided to admit her for that, and then because dripping saline into someone isn't a great use of an ER bed from a cost perspective, they decided to do it quickly. Too quickly.
The day that she went into a coma, and although surfacing a couple of days later, the day that she was forever changed. Real life is not like the movies, you don't necessarily just "wake up".
The day that begat the horror of the last two years, screaming agony for hours on end which no OTC (or prescribed) painkiller could affect, the spasms as her body launched itself across the bed without conscious choice, and finally the day that she started to lose her mind.
The day that, as time wore on, she started to believe crazy things - that myself and her son had been replaced and were not "the real ones", that the medicine is poison, the crushing fear of, well, everything. The death of the woman I love in all but body.
She had a JD/MBA, was admitted to the bar, she had more letters after her name than I did, and I've got a dozen or so. She no longer exists as the person she was. She's been in and out of mental institutions over the last two years. The last time 911 responded, I heard one of the guys saying "Oh, yeah, I remember this place, with the avocado tree".
The extended-time stress of all this awoke LADA diabetes within me, so now I'm tethered to a pump, watching carbs like a hawk, desperately trying to give my kid a normal life. Or as normal as it can get. It became too much, and I had to quit the job, which means selling the house and moving out of Silicon Valley - it's too expensive to retire this early and live properly. So we're off back to the UK, shattered, torn, bewildered, broken, on 4th July.
All because a "hospital" wanted to make even more money. I feel I ought to leave a note, Stargate style, "Do not go to O'Connor Hospital, in San Jose".
Life is cheap, in the USA. Happiness is fleeting. Make the most of it while you have it.