Bump in the Road #3

I was hoping that after the pint of blood I received on Friday, I would feel better over the weekend. Sadly, this was not to be the case. My weakness did not improve and my breathing got worse as Shabbos went on. By the time Saturday night came around, I was in frighteningly bad shape: ragged breathing, very low sats...basically I was a mess. I did not (repeat: DID NOT) want to go to the hospital. Please understand that I've never been a stranger to hospitals. What with the three pneumothorases (collapsed lungs) in my 30s and 40s, three bleeding ulcers, one pericardial effusion and a partridge in a pear tree, my body's been through the wringer. Indeed, I think Maimonides should name a wing after me. After what I went through at Columbia, however, I now equate hospitals with hopelessness, despair and yes, possible death. As I mentioned earlier, I thought I was well on the way to a full, complication-free recovery when I was discharged from Silver Lake. I really wasn't psychologically prepared for this. After a while, however, it became obvious that I didn't really have a choice. Chayie and I discussed calling Hatzoloh, knowing full well that if we did, they would pretty much insist on taking me to a hospital. The thing is, Hatzoloh has a policy whereby they bring you to the nearest hospital available that they consider competent (incidently, that rules out Beth Israel immediately!). They certainly don't transport you out of Brooklyn. Suffice it to say we pulled some strings and before I knew it I was on my way back up to Columbia Presbyterian.