Dodging the Bullet

After many years of laughing in the face of my own mortality, I've finally got my comeuppance. Last Friday I experienced what is being referred to by the medical authorities as a "mild stroke".

Being the master of denial that I am, I of course ignored all the warning signs and went out for my usual Friday lunch of beer and kielbasa, until it all got to be too much to ignore -- the slurred speech, the inability to keep the sausage in the roll or the food in my mouth, etc, and I decided that something may be amiss.

So I went to the hospital and told them I thought I was having a stroke. Actually I said something like "Ahthikkamavashtroke"... but they apparently are expertly bilingual when it comes to these things and checked me in with alacrity.

After a tiring weekend in the hospital (who can get any sleep when nurses descend on you like the hordes of Atilla every two hours to take your blood pressure and your blood and shoot you full of stuff, including shots in both arms and in your stomach? Had they left all those needles in, I would now be doing a credible impression of a sick porcupine) I am home.

I am basically okay, except for a slightly sagging mouth and eyelid on my left side, a bit of slurred speech, and some noticeable -- and annoying -- lack of coordination in my left hand. Typing of course is very challenging, which is why I'm taking a break from blogging for a while.

Don't worry about me. She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed is already planning the lifestyle changes for me which have been necessitated for my by this "unfortunate incident", and signs are good for a complete -- or nearly so -- recovery. See you next year.