Good Health

A few posts ago, I mentioned that I have a friend in the hospital.

Her health problems have given me quite a shock. You see, for as long as I've known her, she's done everything right. She was on her college track team and has always had a daily workout regimen. She watches what she eats and tries to live her life in balance.

Unlike me.

So what kind of crazy world is it when someone like my friend ends up in the hospital with an ailment that is generally considered the problem of people who are much older, overweight and have lived an unhealthy lifestyle?

Like mine.

Upon hearing what had happened to her, I was seriously freaked out. After all, we are the same age (birthdays two weeks apart).

I spent several days at the end of June running some errands for her and visiting with her. As always, she displayed great attitude. She wasn't moaning about her misfortune at ending up in the hospital (which is what I would do). She was laughing at herself and taking it all in stride. She was working on getting better. When I left for Sacramento, she was hopeful that she would be released soon.

But when I returned to SoCal, I learned that she had taken an unexpected turn for the worse, thanks to one of those nasty drug-resistant staph infections that have sprung up in hospitals and gyms.

She's in the ICU, on life support. The family members I've been in touch with are cautiously optimistic. But I was finally allowed to visit with her yesterday, and it was a shock to see this vital, funny, energetic woman laid up in bed, strapped down with tubes and connected to a monitor.

There was some debate as to whether it was a good idea to allow people outside the family to visit at all. Finally, her brother and sister decided that having people talk to her -- to "draw her out," as they put it -- was worth the risk of getting her too tired or excited. (And if that happened, a nurse would be let us know it was time to go.)

I was joined by another mutual friend who works near the hospital. The three of us met 28 years ago, working together at the same crazy local radio station. I was happy for the company, as I had no idea what I was going to say to my friend or how exactly to try to draw her out, especially since she was heavily sedated.

The ICU nurse instructed us to sanitize our hands upon entering the room, and to repeat the process before leaving. So, the first thing Wendy and I did was pump soap onto our hands before we noticed the sanitizer dispenser in the corner -- so we had to wipe off the soap and start all over.

"We're like the Three Stooges in here," she said -- a remark I repeated to our friend in the bed.

We spent a few minutes talking to our friend, with no response... and then, the monitor started to beep rather loudly. Not certain how to proceed or whether it was right to proceed, we left the room (after re-sanitizing) and tried to flag the nurse, who was on the phone talking about another patient, and didn't seem to notice that the noise coming from our friend's room. We finally flagged down another nurse, who said it was blood pressure, and she went into the room to do something about it.

Nurse #1 eventually finished her conversation. She told us that we could spend as much time as we liked talking to our friend -- just talking to her would be helpful.

So we went back into the room, and talked. We reminisced about our foolish 23-year-old selves, the people we knew, the silly things we did. We talked about what we would all do together when our friend recovers and gets out of that place.

And then she reacted, but not the way her brother told me she might. Her told me she might open her eyes, but this reaction was more disturbing. Her chest started to heave and what looked like tears seemed to be rolling down her cheeks.

Mindful of the fact that the last friend's visit resulted in a loss of oxygen (which is why the family debated letting us visit yesterday), and fearful that we were doing more harm than good, we cut the visit short. I did not talk to her brother last night and the hospital is only talking to family members (for privacy reasons).  I had wanted to visit again today, but I think I need to talk to him after work tonight to make sure we didn't make things worse.

Today, I enrolled in a medically supervised weight reduction program. It's costing me a lot of money, but seeing what has happened to my friend, It's time to stop kidding myself that I can take care of my health without help. I'm not doing a good job of it, and I want to live to see my daughter grow up.

Comments

[Denise]

I'm sorry. So often, these things don't make sense.

:-(

[Missy]

Oh Donna, I'm so sorry for your friend and hope that you can have more adventures with her in the future. She's young, she's strong, and I know she'll fight as best she can. Please keep us updated!

I hope that if I'm ever in a situation like hers, my friends would come and talk to me - you're a good friend, and she's lucky to have you.

[Karianna]

Oh, how scary.

I hope your friend improves soon.

[Liz]

Ah, Donna - my heart goes out to you, your friend and her family - thank you for sharing your thoughts and this heart-warming post.

I hope that she gets better, soon and believe that she is aware of just how lucky she is to know you.

I know, I am.

[Donna]

I don't feel like a good friend right now. I visited her one more time, and her condition was a lot worse. I haven't called her brother in days, because I'm afraid to hear what he would have to say to me. But I want to continue to visit her and I can't without family permission, so I will need to call him.

And I have a dirty little secret I probably should have mentioned in this post. Several years ago, a friend of mine died of pancreatic cancer. I never visited her while she was dying. At the time, Megan was just a baby and I was working full time outside the house, and I kept thinking I would see her, and I ran out of time.

I have felt guilty about this ever since.

So I'm a good friend when it's convenient, I'm afraid. And that's the whole dirty truth.