Last Wednesday evening, everything was fine except that I had a slight chill. But it was nothing to worry about – or I thought. But in the middle of the night, having to urinate, I found that I had no strength whatsoever to move. Try as I might, my muscles would not work. I was beside myself with panic, not understanding what was happening to me. And unfortunately, I ended up urinating on the bed like a small child. Or an old person? (Me???)
The next morning, I managed to pull myself up from the mattress on the floor, but it was a real struggle. My breathing was labored and I felt dizzy. Walking was also very difficult. But I finally made it to a chair to finally relax.
Around 10:00, the nurse came as expected to change my bandages. I felt the worst I had ever felt, and looked it. The nurse immediately knew something was up. I told her I thought I needed to go to the hospital. She, on the other hand, suggested I visit my G.P. “What can she do for me!” I asked with the belief that my doctor could offer nothing. The nurse’s driver, Lubo, then took my information and called the ambulance. After asking multiple questions, they decided I was not an emergency and declined to take me. They advised me to go to my doctor. I was very unhappy.
I know that I spoke to Juha, but whatever it was is just a fog in my head. He was naturally very concerned. I would update him later.
Darina, the nurse, told me that my cousin was home (yes, she knows everything) and could drive me to Spišská Stará Ves. I telephoned Janko and asked whether he could take me. Of course, he could. He hadn’t forgotten that a few months earlier, I had driven him and his father to an appointment in Košice.
In the meantime, Juha texted with my cousin-in-law, the only person he could contact via Messenger. Unfortunately, they could only communicate using Google Translate (I’ve since told him to use a much better service). And more unfortunately, the translation failed. The word “ambulancia” in Slovak does not mean ambulance, but doctor’s office; the word “sanitka” means ambulance. So as she explained to him that Janko had taken me to the doctor’s office, the translation mistakenly claimed that I had been taken to the hospital by ambulance.
At the doctor’s office, I was seen relatively quickly given a battery of tests. The result: influenza – the flu.
Back at home, I barely managed on my own. The antibiotics I began taking left my stomach with an unpleasant feeling, so I could eat very little. A pear. A pepper. Buttered toast.
I called Juha once home. He cried, saying how afraid he was for me. And I cried a little too, because I still felt frightened and physically awful, yet loved. If I hadn’t found Juha, my spirits would have been much lower.
Juha and I were both concerned about our planned trip to Venice the first week of March. Juha even asked whether it would be better to cancel plans. I responded that, come hell and high water, we were going, even if it meant I had to rent a wheel chair and get rolled around like the old man I’ve become. I was pretty sure I was being truthful.
Each passing day, I have become stronger. Although it was a real struggle, I was able to manage to get out of bed, although sometimes I had to rest before the final push. Today, in the middle of the night, I hit a milestone: I was able to easily get out of bed as I normally do. This has made me quite happy. In addition, I earlier was not able to write. But look, here I am writing about my case of the flu. Things will get better, I know.
I am currently hitting a few more milestones: I cooked bacon and eggs with buttered toast, took a bath, and shaved. Celebration!!!