Happy birthday to me! I turned 73 yesterday. Among the many things I was not expecting, even beyond being still alive at 73, was that the most criminal president in American history would be reelected by clueless and/or evil people and seemingly take marching orders from one of the most vile billionaires in the history of the world. It’s going to be a challenging four years, two if we get lucky and the Republicans lose control of both the House and the Senate.
As mentioned elsewhere, December 14 was the first anniversary of my starting my current therapy. It has changed my life and will continue to do so. I feel better and more confident about myself than ever before. I know the road ahead will be fraught with all manner of peril, but I’m moving forward and I will never stop moving forward.
Among the other things I wasn’t expecting was that I would spend near a week in the hospital. Sparing you the more gory details, here’s how that went down.
Just a few days after Thanksgiving, I developed what I thought was some sort of flu or virus. I figured it would pass within a two or three days. But it didn’t. It got steadily worse. So bad I had to make the tough call to cancel my weekend appearance at GalaxyCon Columbus, one of my favorite conventions.
The personal reason was my realization I did not have the energy to do the hard work of being a guest at such an event. The more altruistic reason was that I didn’t want to spread whatever I had to anyone else. I thought of the many recent conventions where large numbers of fans and guests returned to their homes with the oh-so-special souvenir of flu or worse. I didn’t want to be Patient Zero at this convention.
Fortunately, GalaxyCon was understanding and appreciative of my decision. I hope to be a guest at some of their other fine shows in the coming year.
I was depressed about not seeing the fans and other old friends at the convention. But I knew it was the right call as I got even more sick during the weekend and beyond. By Tuesday night, December 10, Saintly Wife Barb drove me to the MetroHealth emergency room in nearby Brecksville. Following initial tests, I spent the next twelve hours waiting for a bed to open up at one of the MetroHealth hospitals. My tedium was broken only by trips to the restroom, where I never once actually rested, and nurses coming in to draw blood and take my vitals. Most of the time I sat in a chair and tried to sleep. I maybe managed a hour or two in short naps throughout the evening.
On Wednesday, around noon, an ambulance took me to MetroHealth’s Glick Center. It’s the main campus of the health care provider. I was still tired and in pain, but this amazing building lifted my spirits even before I got to my private room. I thanked my health care coverage and the luck of the draw that had placed me in this room. A bed, a chair, a couch. A large window with an incredible view of the surrounding area. A large bathroom with a shower. I’ve stayed in “deluxe” hotel rooms that weren’t this nice. On the wall was a large flat screen TV and a second screen showing my name, the names of my doctors and nurses and notes on things like diet, probable discharge times and so on. I felt more on top of my medical care than ever before.
The staff was beyond wonderful. They were great at their jobs, kind and patient. Without going into detail, the past several weeks have been extremely emotional for me. I broke down crying one early a.m. morning. The medical student sat down next to me, holding my hand while I got it together. I constantly feel as if I’m letting people down. My family, my fans and friends, the comics industry. my country and myself.
On the plus side, the Glick Center had a three-page menu and the food was terrific. My favorites were the salmon with lemon and the tomato soup. I’d call the food service, tell them whatever I wanted and have my meals delivered to me within an hour. There were so many choices every meal choice was a challenge.
There was no consensus on what was wrong with me, so many tests were performed. My white cell count was dangerously high. My condition was eventually determined to be some kind of kidney infection. The good news was that I tested negative for a couple of nasty things and that my numbers, including the white count, were all heading in the right direction.
My likely discharge date on the white board went from Friday to Saturday to Sunday and even to Monday. Happily, I was discharged on Saturday. It was good to be home.
Since then, I’ve been resting and taking it as easy as possible, not the easiest thing to do this close to Christmas holidays. I was and remain behind on several fronts. I know I’m going to be late on some things. But my main job is to not let stress make me sick again. I’m getting stuff done, just more slowly than I’d like. In the end, it will all be good.
The holidays will be a bit more of a struggle this year, but I’m happy to be celebrating them with Barb and the kids and not, no matter how swell they are, the staff at the Glick Center. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all of them and all of you. I’ll be back in 2025 with more stuff.
© 2024 Tony Isabella