I hardly know where to start anymore. I went ape when my blog of Tuesday disappeared into UCSF Cyberspace. I have been unable to organize my thoughts since that evening and with all the admittedly bizarre events of the last couple of days I have still not returned to my full senses. Now this is not to be confused with my well-publicized hallunications of several weeks ago (more on these some other time) but I beg your indulgence as I put down thoughts under Linsey's terminology "Random Ness".
ENOUGH ALREADY WITH ALL THIS NPO ANGST
I am frankly sick to death of myself constantly ragging about NPO (for you curious types "Nadie Per Orem", Latin for "Nothing By Mouth") every time a procedure is even tentatively scheduled. You would think after 5 or 6 years of this I would grow up already and get some sort of life. Why can't I get over myself every time I have to go without food or drink for 8 or 10 or 20 hours? Because I am a real-life card-carrying MOSS fer cryin' out loud, that's why! I get antsy when I am hungry, the more hungry the more antsy and generally objectionable I become. The most serious exceptions to my status of Model Patient have been prompted by an extended period of brutal and unnatural NPO. I was NPO today for 2 procedures that never happened only escaping true misery thanks to a truly sympathetic attending physician who pulled the plug on one of them. Inability to locate the surgeon canceled the other (yes I know he has done several lung transplants this week already so he deserved to be MIA) so I dodged that bullet too. But oh by the way I am NPO at midnight tonight for the same procedure at some time or other tomorrow. So EXCUUUUUUSE ME while I look forward to yet another lonely morning without my French toast.
REASONS I MAY NO LONGER BE THE MODEL PATIENT
The obvious big reason is the one described above....but in addition:
The other day the Diabetes Educator (DE for our purposes) told me I was the best patient she has seen at handling an insulin pump. Since I have been off my beloved pump since Feb. 9 I was anxious to resume. She gave me some estimated new insulin ratios and said she would write orders to get me restarted. So I did. Upon returning from a procedure in Interventional Radiology I was greeted by a huddle of obviously frightened nurses. Appears my nurse went berserko over me hooking up my pump since she and her colleagues were just as unfamiliar with insulin pumps as 99% of all the nurses at all of the many hospitals I have visited over the years.
I pointed out my instructions from the DE as well as the fact that at virtually every visit to UCSF for many years I was allowed to manage my own program. I was now viewed with fear and loathing as a suddenly Mad Guy Who Used to Be So Nice. Don't forget I was going onto Hour 9 of NPO. Imagine my chagrin when the DE announced she had said "when you get home" which I either never heard ("a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest"-Simon and Garfunkel, Bridge Over Troubled Water) or I was having another hallucination relapse. I gingerly removed my pump and went happily back to their regimen.
AND THE ULTIMATE WORST POSSIBLE NEWS I COULD GET
My nurse this evening casually informed me that for tomorrow's surgical procedure even though fairly minor would necessitate the return of my hated arch-enemy MR. FREAKIN' FOLEY!!! NO PLEASE! OK KEEP YOUR BLASTED FRENCH TOAST! ANYTHING BUT MR. FOLEY!
Stay tuned for more cliff-hanging, maybe tomorrow if I make it through a session with Mr. Foley!
Bob/Irv
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