You Know it is Not Going to be a Good Day When......

...You go to the Doctor for a regular check up and you end up it the hospital.

There were two things I wanted to discuss with my doctor today.  The first was chronic fatigue syndrome. The second was narcolopsy.  I was curious if chronic fatigue syndrome was a physical or a psychological disorder.  Ever since my surgery, I have been in a constant state of fatigue.  I go to bed at night.  I sleep all night uninterrupted with the exception of an ocasional bathrom stop.  When I awake in the morning, I am more tired than when I went to slep.  My first thought is:  "I think I need to take a nap."  Usually I do.

There is something wrong with my body,  my heart and/or my brain. In the last month, on twelve seperate occasions, I would be going about my business and I would find myself on the ground.  This happened thre times on Saturday. The first was when I was walking to the Farmer's Market. I was walking and I found myself on the ground.  When I woke, I watched as people walked around or walked over me.  A little disturbed that no one asked to see if I was okay.  Another  time during the day, I was walking home from the grocery store.  When I found myself on the ground with broken glass and pickle juice.  Three second rule.  Yes, I ate two pickles before I got up and went on my way.  There was no crying over spilt milk as the milk was in a plastic container and was unharmed during my fall.  The most recent self diagnosed incident of narcolopsy was this morning when I was taking the trash to the dumpster. Nothing like finding yourself on the ground with a bunch of trash.  I know you think I am going to make a joke about trailer park trash but I am above that now.  Or am I?

After talking to the doctor, I found myself in an ambulance and after six hours in the emergency room, I have been admitted to the hospital. They plan on sending me to the VA hospital in West LA in the morning.  Uncle Sam loves me and pays my medical bills but even he can not afford the prices at this incredible private hospital.  If you could see my room, you would think I was staying at the Hilton.  Expensive wood floors.  Mahogany cabinets and desk.  My own flat screen.  Yes, and my own laptop and internet  which I am writing you from.  Who would ever want to get well?

Sometimes you go from rags to riches. Tomorrow I go from riches to rags as I am sent to West LA to the VA hospital.  However, I am forever grateful to Uncle Sam and to you. Who is the recording artist who sings, "And say a little for a prayer for me"?  Please sing one for me as I will not have the JOY of writing to you tomorrow.