No reading done inside the hospital room

Painful, painful IV line

This week started with a kind of crazy that begs to be written about. Monday, after lunch, I found myself heading to my dentist for an appointment. As per their protocol, they had to take my blood pressure because I needed some serious work done on my teeth. Lo, my BP was 220 over 120! Yikes!

So instead of having some dental work done, I ended up under the care of a general practitioner who was so worked up over my BP that she constantly checked me every 15 minutes. After 2 rounds of medication, with my BP showing no signs of going down, she referred me to the emergency room of the nearest  hospital.

Naturally, I just laughed it off. How serious could it be? Somehow, when the doctor said that my BP was just the right level to make me predisposed to having a stroke, that fell on deaf ears. So I took my time going to the ER, even stopping by at a convenience store to get a snack.

When I got to the ER and showed the referral slip from the doctor, I was confused as to why they were shoving this wheelchair to my face and asking me to get on it. It was at this time that it sunk—my BP screwed me over, and it was really as serious as people said. Well, life can suck vacuum cleaners.

My time at the ER was surreal. Never would I imagine myself being on a bed and wheeled from one test to another. There was radiology, lots of blood work, an ultrasound of sorts. I kept telling the staff that I can walk, really. But they wouldn't have none of it. For them, I'm just a ticking time bomb. I'm the guy who can literally have a heart attack at any moment.

Oh, I couldn't really get out of bed, much less go to the restroom to relieve myself. I had this IV thing and this electronic cuff which monitored my BP every 20 minutes or so. Kinda cool actually. But it did limit my movement. Most patients would just bring their IV to the restroom. I, on the other hand, couldn't do that. I had an electronic gadget attached to me, which required being plugged to work. So unless my numerous, lovable fat cells can produce voltage, I'm immobile while that monitoring thing is attached to me.

I was attached to this machine which showed my vitals.
Notice the BP of 140/87. Woot! Down from 220/120!
But of course, I was heavily medicated.

And so I got admitted to the hospital for 3 days. It was all a blur. Nurses coming and going. Doctors asking me the same questions. Kinda embarrassing to hear that I really needed to lose weight. Even more embarrassing—hearing that in front of your hospital guests. For some reason, every time a doctor comes in to give his or her advice, I would have guests. Ah, such is the mystery of life.

Anyway, I'm back home as I'm writing this. And I'm looking at the meal plan that my dietitian gave me. I'm supposed to stick to a low-salt and low-fat diet. (Good-bye, butter! Good-bye, bacon!) I also need to limit my caloric intake to 1,500 per day. Excuse me, before, I can consume 1,500 calories in just one meal.

You do lose weight when you get sick, right? But I didn't know that it would really be significant. When I was first admitted, I was 101 kilos. When I got out, I was only 98! Where could those 3 kilos go? I recall doing the number 2 just once. So it probably went somewhere. I guess being in a hospital sucks the life out of you, no? I just hope to never get back. Well, at least not any time soon.