Just finished throwing up. First saliva, then acidic contents that were yellow. Green would be a color resembling or being actual bile. But no bile, thank God. My throat is still sore as I write this, but . . . This could be the last entry of my life. It could be the last time you read anything. This is true 100% of the time for 100% of every being on Earth to instantly die. Swine flu, fires all about, earthquakes and the shutterings of the Earth abound. 

I am so sad to be missing an appointment with my psychiatrist. I think lots of people see psychiatrists but, as is the patient's right, they keep this information private. To everyone. Here, I could die with each second I am not drinking water. I live in this different, World it seems. One that is faithful in God, trusting in the road ahead (ok, not all the way 'trusting'), and having God show me His presence in my life. As He can do for you. The secret I learned just before my PICC line was pulled? Someone mentioned it to me yesterday, as she stopped to greet me. Once I reached the place where I dedicated all of my sufferings to the drop of the bucket that Christ suffered for me. Pain? OK. I give it to God, for the sufferings of His Son. Those sufferings pale in contrast to what Christ suffered for us. But I believe that for God, He accepts these sufferings as sacrifices for our sins, perhaps. Or perhaps we finally hit the point in our lives that we accept what we have, we accept the way that the world is, and we are puppets for God. Sometimes, I fast to feel closer to God. Jesus fasted, but I do not hear that fasting is spoken at the pulpit much.  Which churches still do this? The Blessed-by-God Jewish peoples are still blessed by God and include fasting, as do some Muslim religions. What about Christianity? 

=[]\    This is just to show you how a brain-injured person thinks. The order of things, the order of thoughts. Thoughts are categorized, and subthoughts are kept in waiting while the main subject is being told. I know that I am not telling the medical community, nor the general public, anything new. This has already been described by pioneers of great repute. However, I am a doctor and a writer.

And a patient and a physical body with anatomical and physiological disorders that are unusual, rare, and all in the same person. Dysautonomia, traumatic brain injury, Mal de Debarquement Syndrome, neurogenic bladder, status post (s/p) vertebral artery dissection with aneurysm, etc etc. I don't know....24 pills/day? My fingers shake and my left hand has its own tremor. 

I derailed again. Got off subject and now I can not recall what my next thought was going to be about. I know that I had a thought at the back of my head, sitting there ready for me. I think that the problem is that I can not even skim the surface of the area, whereas before, things were different. Before, I could 'hold' a key word like 'box' and keep another word like 'car' in my memory. Now, I am constantly asking my caregivers about my own words, my own conversations. "What did I just say?" "What were we talking about?" Everyone does this sometimes, right? What if you were walking down a hallway and you forgot where you were going? Does that ever happen to you? What if your day was constantly filled with forgetfulness? Like the nutty professor?  Forget who you are calling as the phone rings; forget why you are walking down this hallway; forget where you are going. Constantly. Your caregivers can steal food, toilet paper, paper towels, whole new containers of beef or chicken. Now a pair of my jeans is missing. There is always Something Missing in this house. Do not put anything down, because there is a thief amongst us. Keep your purse locked in your car. In some lives, people have to live this way. 

If these people can do this to me because I'm an invalid today and just finished throwing up, how much more can they do to an Elderly person in a nursing home? Stealing, hitting, neglecting, starving, leaving in briefs with stool for hour upon hour...I hate it. The souls of these Elderly, these people who are precious as a child. Their souls cry out to me. They are right down the street and a few turns away. It is like a haunted house, constantly nagging at me. Hence my passion for stopping Elder Abuse. Do you realize that if you are lucky, you will become very old and very hard to take care of? Who is going to take care of you? If you have the means, I have seen (but I'm not telling you what to do) that long-term care insurance is a necessary part of every financial portfolio. We have to plan to deteriorate, plan to die. Decide who we want to be with, and what is important to us. Life. Human life.

So I go back and know and live through what I went through as I went through it. Because, as a patient, I went through years of animosity with the insurance companies, and with the medical profession. I'm not the only one. Doctors decide to retire early from practicing medicine, especially the elder doctors. They have seen the 'old' days and can compare them to now. It's just not like 'the old days' now, where physicians gain job satisfaction because of grateful patients. Doctors used to play golf, no? Does your doctor play golf twice a week? Or is he/she tied to a desk with 197 emails and 12 piles of papers on the desk? Don't you think it would be better if the doctors were happy to be doctors? That you could talk to them, and they will believe you. That they will try to find out what is wrong with you. And if he/she doesn't know your problem, your diagnosis, can he/she ask for help? No doctor knows everything, but there are plenty of doctors that know a little bit about everything. Up to a point. Then a doctor will eventually consider her/himself uneducated in the specialty that you might need to be evaluated by. It feels like I had to exhaust myself by planning to exhaust the resources and capabilities of one physician. Don't know what is wrong? Send me to the right Specialty, if needed. A cardiologist, or a neurologist, or an oncologist.

The way things are now. So different, so much less satisfying to physicians who are in it for the life. The art and the science of medicine. The joy of taking someone in ear pain, and later, her relief as the cochroach was out of her right ear. What if I did the wrong thing and not only was the Emergency Room patient pregnant, but... but what if it was a pregnant bug in her ear? If I broke the bug as I was pulling it out, I did not want to unload a bag of cochroach newborns into her ear canal. The ear canal is close to the brain, and common sense tells me that it would be a yucky thing to let that happen. 

So I devised a plan. First, we filled her ear canal with oil. This is both to suffocate the bug, scare it into backing out the ear canal, and to keep the bug intact. Without breaking it. Oil in. Fail. Bug only wiggles more. So I take a pair of tweezer-like forceps and hold my breath. I've never even heard of this happening to someone, but here I was with the pregnant patient, the bug, and the oil. I did not think it would  be a good idea to keep this game of cat and mouse for much time. So, ever so gently and precisely, I was able to hold my breath while pulling out a wiggling bug with long legs. To me, the legs seemed bony and helpless. And did I forget to say that it was a  very h u m on g o u s l y gross task for me. But I am a professional. I will not let you see my face change, and my lips will not twitch because I know that God is with me. He guides me and leads me, even to the point of leading my surgical hands to grab the bug in just the right position. You might have been fine with it, but boy did I hate and love my job at that moment in time. 

When I thought my care was bad, I believed in myself. I was too young to die. I have a little daughter smoochy woochy. I hated the idea that I would die on one of my hositalizations. I fought for myself by speaking up and by continuing the search for my Path to recovery. There is nothing like a true diagnosis, a true therapy, a true 'fix' or cure. On the other hand, it is not outlandish to consider that some doctors may spend more time on the computer or filling out paperwork, than they did with the patient. Is the tail wagging the dog? Hello America and beyond. You only have once to die. Why not Personal custom requirements by even one patient may disrupt the management and stability of the entire office. So much patient entitlement when 

Yesterday, I saw two doctors that have known me since the car accident. I incidentally passed the Dr. Frankensteen. Dr. Frankensteen brought up so much astonishment in me at first, that I was simply whole-bound stunned. Jaw drop to the ground. No, keep a straight face while the acid in my stomach turned. He was close enough to touch me, or I could have...reached out to touch him. He walked until he was out of sight and then my atonishment turned to rage. This was the man who seemingly gave up one me and he actually wanted me to be discharged from the hospital inpatient status and then be admitted to a nursing home. A psychiatrist is a good person to talk to about these things. A good psychiatrist, I believe, helps one solve ones problems. I'm lucky I have more than a good psychiatrist. God blessed me with him.

I'm too tired. This is taking too long. I'm going to make a phone call and then go to sleep. I need a three hour nap.