On Jan. 23 I was crossing Ridge Blvd. to pick up my three-year-old daughter from day care, at about 5:30 P.M., when I was struck by an incredible force and hurled to the curb, where my head hit the pavement with a terrific impact. The next thing I knew I was giving my wife Susan's phone number to someone, who was quickly able to reach her at the near-by supermarket. Someone did get a partial plate number but the police never found the car. Susan was able to find a babysitter and followed me to Lutheran Medical Center where I was almost immediately put into intensive care, though fortunately I was intact: no skull fracture or broken bones (but plenty of bleeding). That first night was the worst, as they did not want to medicate my head until they were sure I was compos mentis; Susan held my hand and talked to me while it felt as though hot butter knives were being thrust in my ears. Finally in the morning they gave me some morphine, which did help somewhat. Unfortunately for me I was an unusual patient: eight years ago I had had an aortic dissection and had been taking Coumadin, a blood-thinner, ever since. Without going into too much detail, that meant that to reduce the bleeding in my brain they had to reduce the blood thinner, risking clogging that aortic valve and causing a blood clot. It became a delicate balance, with constant brain scans to make sure errors were not being made in one direction or the other. I was moved out of intensive care once and then back again when the bleeding became too severe. Eventually they were able to stop the bleeding in the brain and bring me into rehab. The occupational therapists (who teach one how to increase endurance, boil water, and take a shower) and the physical therapists (who work on balance and strength) were well-trained and helpful, knowing just how far to push one. I had an hour daily each of OT and PT and also an hour of speech therapy. The ST was mostly unrelated to my accident, but rather because of a paralyzed vocal cord that had been nipped during my last aortic surgery six years ago and I had just been tolerating, laughing when people called me "miss" on the phone.
For me the worst part of being in the hospital is the boredom. They are good at giving you painkillers and feeding you, though the food, of course, is terrible (dry rice and chicken, grey canned green beans, etc. and I only received jello once the whole time I was there!). I love to read and I love to watch movies and I love to listen to music, but only if I can do so comfortably, not propped up in an uncomfortable hospital bed while one' s roommate listens to and watches the cartoon network. I did have my faithful Walkman with me but the situation in radio has become more dismal than ever (you think TV is a vast wasteland?!) and WKCR and WQXR did not come in very well. The nurses and doctors, when one can find them, are helpful and friendly, mostly. But one can sleep only so much! Anyway, at the moment I am safely home and will write more when I have had time to spend with my beautiful daughter Victoria! My unending thanks to her, my lovely son Gideon and my sweet wife Susan.
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