Sunday did not start well. On Saturday afternoon my cardiologist put a nitroglycerin patch on my shoulder, and by bedtime I had a raging headache. The nurse gave me Tylenol and said the headache was most likely caused by the patch. She said I'd need the doc's permission to take it off, so when she left the room I just took it off, the Tylenol was useless and it seemed stupid to wait, a case of the cure being worse than the illness.
However the headache took a long time to abate, and when a blood technician showed up at my bed at 6am, I was in more of a mood to take blood than to give it. I snapped at her and she backed off right away and called the nurse.
In the end they got their blood, and they installed a new intravenous needle, no doubt punishment for being unco-operative. I am trying real hard to be polite, but I guess I am just tired of this whole thing, I want out. Or failing that, to inflict harm.
"Jimi" stopped by the lounge today, he no longer has his portable life support system so I guess he's getting better. He says he feels fine but the doctor tells him his kidneys are still a little shaky.
Emmanual told me that he had another reason for not wanting to be in the same room as the dying man. He said that the man was Maltese, the same as him, and everyone visiting the fellow spoke in Maltese. They didn't know that Emmanual was Maltese too, they said some things that he didn't want to hear. But on Sunday he walked by his old room and saw the dying man sitting up. Maybe he's not dying after all!
I watched the 50km cross-country marathon skiing, the Canadian Devon Kershaw came in fourth. This was a record performance for Canada, but the poor guy was devastated that he was only 1.6 seconds from gold, a fraction of a second from being on the podium at all. The race took just over two hours, two hours of all-out effort, and I imagine he had nothing left at all so the tears were probably as much about exhaustion as about disappointment. The TV interviewer was congratulating him on his great performance, but all he could do was apologize for letting everyone down. Poor guy.
The big hockey game started around 3.15pm, Isaac and Tristan came with popcorn, Emmanual's family came, a couple of other patients and some visitors and staff. It was a good game, and we had a full house. Canada was leading for most of the game but the Americans scored a goal that tied the two teams in literally the last minute of play. Quite amazing. So there was 20 minutes of "sudden death" overtime and Sydney Crosby scored the winning goal for Canada. Lots of cheering in the patient lounge, I am sure the nurses at the nursing station at the other end of the hall knew exactly what had happened.
Later in the evening some of us watched the closing ceremonies. A couple of nurses came by to see too. They said they were sorry the Olympics were over, the TV would be boring now. I agreed. I said I planned to get better and go home now that the Olympics were over.
On Monday I have my angiogram at St Mike's, hopefully some kind of diagnosis and treatment will come out of that. I may or may not be returning to St. Joe's so I am to pack up all my belongings to leave. I'm not looking forward to the procedure, but I am looking forward to it being over with. Three of us are off for our angios, and a fourth is off to start radiation for lung cancer. We have been wishing each other well because we may or may not see each other again. Who knows what our outcomes will be, but everyone has the attitude of, you do your best and what will be will be.