Two other men there were post-transplant and were telling some ICU stories. Ah, the hallucinations I have to look forward to; at least I have some experience under my belt. My stay in the ICU, in 2008, involved my bed turning into a train. From what I heard yesterday...I may wake up thinking everyone in the room is trying to steal my new blowers.
However, with my outstanding physical strength (due to physio), I will catapult myself from my hospital bed, chest tubes, IV's, delirium and all, and deliver a body slam, cannonball, uppercut, drop kick, flying clothesline, etc. to any one who tries to reopen my chest cavity.
Once again, after physio my sugars plummeted. This time, pre-physio, I did check my levels and I was 4.4 (a healthy number is between 4-7). I had some oreos in my purse, thanks to Brad, so I stuffed a couple in me to try to stay in the normal range throughout my workout. I managed to get through my workout, plus standing around gabbing with everyone (and being lectured by Carman that YES, Pamela will pick us up today to go to their place for dinner) before I felt the effects of a low. I check and I'm at 2.7.
Janey (my dietitian): don't read this part!
I drive the rest of the oreos down my throat and fly to...what else?...Starbucks and grab a tall blonde with hazelnut. I realize I should have healthier alternatives to raising my levels on hand, but I guess I can't be perfect at everything, right? By the way, I have to admit something: I have an obsession with hazelnut coffee cream. Yesterday, as it was on sale, I bought 3 large bottles of it...just to have it. Going without is just not an option.
Anyway, I am documenting all of this so I have it to review with the nurse practitioner/certified diabetes educator at the CF clinic. Control...that's all a person really wants, right? I'm being given a new life with this transplant, the last thing I want is diabetes to take over.
On our way home, we stopped and bought a disposable camera. Now I'm really ready for Cletus to screech. I can't wait to see the pictures of my old, crusty, dilapidated lungs, along with pictures of my new, ready-for-some-serious-action ones! If anybody wants a copy to hang in their living room, just send me a money order. It's the new trend; I've seen it on that new HGTV show, "My lungs, Your house".
Last night we decided to get crazy, being a Friday night and all, and ended up at...the grocery store. It was a wild time among the cantaloup and bean sprouts. We took the wheelchair, saved me from huffing and walking, plus saved a cab ride as the groceries rode home on my lap. Brad pushed the cart and I pushed myself (just around the store); wow! Not easy guys! My arms are pretty freaking weak; I'll soon have to step it up to 5 lb weights.
Last night in the park Griffin met a new friend, Napoleon. He hasn't played like that with any dog since we got here. It was the cutest. I'm pretty sure they exchanged email.
|Hard day boys?|