Popsicles, Icicles

I was driving last night to pickup dinner. I had the radio on and was searching through stations for something to listen to that kept me interested.  I tuned in to a small station that was playing old songs and the song Popsicles, Icicles by The Murmaids came on. I’ve heard the song many, many times before, but this is the first time I’ve listened. 

Clavoline

I’m wondering what instrument was making that ‘icy’ sound. Was it an organ or a clavoline?

The girl that sang lead had such a gorgeous voice. Her phrasing was brilliant. I was also impressed that the song was not perfect. There were a few spots that were perhaps not on queue, but it added to the recording.

This song was probably recorded in the middle of 1963, since it did not receive airplay until October of that year.  The Murmaids were a trio of high school aged girls, Carol and Terry Fischer, age 15 and 17 at the time. They were joined by their friend, 17 year old Sally Gordon. 

The Fischer girls came from a very musical family. Their father of the Fischer girls was composer Carl Fischer. He had written some hit songs for Billie Holiday and Frankie Laine. Their mother was a singer with the Stan Kenton Orchestra and their grandmother was a singer in a vaudeville act.

Mike Post

This was not the trios first attempt at recording. Mike Post produced demo records for them. He also used them as back up singers on sessions at Gold Star Recording. If you are not aware, Gold Star was the studio that Phil Spector used, as did the Beach Boys to produce many, many hit songs.

Terry Fischer states that within three months the group had recorded a hit single, then an album. They did several television shows and numerous appearances.  The Fischer’s mother acted as their manager. There were offers from many record companies, but Mrs. Fischer turned them down. They released a few more singles that never charted. Terry states everyone made money, but all the girls received was a bill from the recording company charging them for royalties.

The song, Popsicles, Icicles was written by David Gates (later he was in a band called Bread).  Gates had written 5 songs for the session that the girls recorded.  The vocal arrangements were by Skip Battin. The session was produced by Kim Fowley.

The song charted at #3 in 1964 and was right behind the number one tune, I Want to Hold Your Hand. It was released in the U.K. but failed to chart since the British did not recognize Popsicles.  They called them Ice Lollies.

I love the backing instrumentation, particularly the organ sound. It is fascinating that David Gates used a similar sound in later years on Breads recording of “If”.

One mystery that may never be solved is why did the Murmaids not spell Mermaid correctly.

12 Days Out of the Hospital and a Really Weird Dream

It has been thirteen days since I left the hospital. What an adventure I am having!  I do not know what has happened to my skin.  I suppose it is from being edematous and losing all the fluid. My skin is dry and looks like the feathers have been plucked. It feels like feathers too since I am so itchy. My legs have gotten quite skinny. The psoriasis is drying out. There are patches on my skin that look like pink shadows of psoriasis.

Last night I created a profile page on St. E's My Chart so I could send an email to my doctor.

I got up at 6 am this morning. I was itchy and could not go back to sleep. Linny was still up. I weighed myself and I am 252.  I had a small bowl of Rice Krispies and a cup of peach yogurt. I cannot have the berry kind of yogurt. I stayed up a couple of hours. TV has nothing on it worth watching. I looked at Face Book. ‘Sad news about a friend of a friend.  Damn, in looking up images I see there is a gluten-free version of Rice Krispies. I'll have to look for some.

I went back to bed and once again it was weird dream time. 

I was back in the hospital, only this time in a ward. I think my wife was in the next bed. My mother was also in the room.  A bevy of doctors were making their rounds and they stopped to examine me. 

The poor resident assigned to me went over her notes. She didn’t even look like she was twenty years old. Her face was covered acne and as she bent over me I could see that so was her chest. In fact it looked a lot like guttate psoriasis. I was then put on a stretcher and wheeled into the hall to await a test. The doctors continued to mill about the room and examine the others.

Next thing I know I was dressed and walking around my town. I walked past the high school and ducked in one door that said Archbishop.  I felt weird being there, so I left and walked up the street toward the hospital.

When I got back I could not find my room so I walked into the first one I saw.  Much to my surprise, there was my father. He was lying in a hospital bed. He had experienced a stroke. In the next bed was his girlfriend. At least that is what he said and on the other side was her young daughter. On the floor were a raggedy looking puppy and an even more raggedy looking child. Both had dirty fur or hair that seemed to turn into brown dust.

Dad said he got tired of life and went to Monroe Ohio and met this lady.  My Mother had alluded this to us, but did not give specifics.  The lady was about my age and her daughter was cooking, cleaning and shopping for the bunch.  The child was her daughter and the puppy was Dad’s dog. I told him that Mom was in the next room. He was anxious to see her.

I headed back to the next room, but got side-tracked since there was a party in the cafeteria. I sat next to the young resident with the bad skin and talked with her.  I then decided to go back to my room. On the way Dad and his girlfriend came walking out. Dad had a pronounced limp and one sided weakness from the stroke. A sad looking lady followed them. Her eyes were not quite right. After that came the daughter, who showed a lot of fondness for my Dad, like he was spending money on her. 

She was followed by the dirty child and dirty puppy.  I then went back to my room and back to bed.

I woke up again at 11:45 am and I had to have a bowel movement. I guess it is the low fiber diet, but this will be only the fourth time I have moved my bowels since leaving the hospital. I tried to go last night, but I am afraid of straining my bowels. I did strain just a little this morning. 

I took a shower.  I used to take one shower a day, if not more on hot days. Now I don’t have the desire to shower.  It makes my dried out skin feel funny. I have also noticed how sensitive I am to hot water.

I then went downstairs and put Patty out. Yesterday was a beautiful 75 degrees. Today it is in the 30’s and raining. I made bacon and eggs for Mom and me.  I gave most of the bacon to Patty. Linny woke up, got a cup of coffee and went back to bed.

It is not even two pm and I am getting tired.

Eleven Days - Post Hospital

Eleven days and I am out of the hospital.  I have no desire to go back. Over the weekend I went on the Social Security website and applied for early retirement benefits. I am still going to have to work, but I can begin drawing at age 62. I’ll need a job to keep health insurance. I also am not going to make enough from Social Security to live, and pay expenses.  But it will be a big help.

I think I have dislocated my jaw. It is difficult to chew food and it feels like my teeth do not line up. I will ignore it and maybe feel better tomorrow or the day after.

I spoke with Sedgwick, the disability benefits company. I have been approved and can be off through March 17^th. Since that is a Monday I am going to try to go back to work. The doctors do not seem to think I am not unhealthy enough to be on full time disability. I prayed about this and I suppose that is my answer. I like to work and be around people, I am just hoping I can get my stamina back.  I can only remember one password at work.

My battle with psoriasis continues, but I think the rash is a little less angry. It still itches and looks nasty. I am still getting exhausted fairly easily. Today, I cooked breakfast, did the dishes, took clothes down stairs to the laundry, put clothes in the washer and dryer and brought clothes upstairs. I made a phone call to my doctor’s office and another phone call to Social Security (what a production!) and after that I had to go lay down. I hope I can handle eight hours at work.

I slept for about an hour and dreamed about being in the hospital and having a colonoscopy. In the dream, I was placed on a stretcher which was jacked up in the air. I was then positioned with my rear end hanging out for the world to see and all the lights were turned on shining right down on my heinie.  Then everyone left the room and did not shut the door, which left me mooning all the passers-by.

I wrote a few thank you notes to folks that are praying for me.  Gosh, it humbles me when I think of Gods people holding me up in prayer.

My sister came over to take care of Mom for a little while.  My daughter called and we spoke about my health, her schooling and her kids.  Linny and I went out for dinner at Frisch’s. We both had fish and it was not very good.  I don’t usually talk about bowel movements, but I think I have only had two since leaving the hospital. I attribute this to my low fiber diet. I cannot have gluten either. I am so tired now. I think I’ll check on Mom and close my eyes.

I had a nap. I have been thinking about this guy I know. He used to play and was the lead singer with a Christian band called Prodigal. He became really heavy and his health went downhill. He had several rounds of kidney failure before they shut down.  He has been in a ‘rehab’ center for almost three years and is now in hospice.  I think of my own condition and think it is nothing compared to what Loyd is experiencing. I have been praying for him.

Seven Days Out of the Hospital

It is Friday, March 7^th. I have been out of the hospital for seven days now.  I still feel weak.

On Wednesday I went to the cardiologists office and spoke with the nurse practitioner. She adjusted my medicine and agreed that I should stay off the warfarin until the 17^th.

I’m thinking back to before the illness. I was having lots of headaches and the psoriasis was driving me crazy with itching.  I was taking Benadryl and Tylenol. I wonder if the Tylenol affected my bout of GI bleeding?  Who knows? I am still itchy. Linny put this medicine on my back a few nights ago. I think it is called Tiamcinoclone. It is oily and only made me itch worse. The marks on my back became more prominent. I had to get out of bed early in the morning and shower to get it off of me.  No more of that stuff. I should have called the dermatologist today, but I am tired of being like this.

On Thursday I went to see Dr. Dragan. He spoke with me about my issues and wanted me to follow up with a couple of blood and urine tests to check my creatine levels. I have been off the diabetes medicine because of what I was told my kidneys were out of whack.  I was shocked to get my paper work with my admitting diagnosis. It said Congestive Heart Failure, Diabetes Mellitus and Acute Renal Failure.  No wonder I feel so bad.

I have been watching our money closely and I have been trying hard not to eat anything that would cause this again. I am on a low fiber, gluten free diet.  It is tough because everything I used to enjoy has been taken away.  But even when I try to eat it, the food doesn’t taste that good.

I sat upright in bed this morning at 6 am. I could not get back to sleep. I came downstairs and fixed bacon and eggs. I am not sure if bacon is OK as it is processed meat, but the alternative is goetta and it is made with pinhead oatmeal. I made Linny some goetta and toast. She didn’t eat it when she woke up. She has been so upset with me and her school. She hardly looks me in the eyes anymore. She is doing well in school, but still worries.  She ate a bowl of granola (which I cannot have) so I put the goetta and toast away for Mom.

The home healthcare nurse came at around 10 am. She asked me a few questions and took my vital signs and left.  I went back to bed. I did not recall the physical therapist was coming this afternoon.

I had this seriously weird dream that I was working in a nursing home-call center. I was taking phone calls and answering questions while I was in the same room with old folks that were in bed.  The first call I received was from a Black lady. She had put someone else on the phone to ask the question, but I had to talk with her.  She wanted me to get her in touch with ‘one of those young college kids’ that could tell her how to make gunpowder. I asked her if anything was wrong with her cable and she clammed up. A few minutes later a supervisor was on the line and she was telling me that she had been listening to the conversation. I needed to talk with my manager.  I went out of the patient’s room to find my manager in a large cafeteria. I have no idea what was said. I know I walked back to the patient’s room to go back to work. The piano was gone. In fact the whole room was different. I check other rooms and the too were different.  I then saw an exodus of patients that were heading to the end of the hall and walking upstairs. They had been told the all lost their rooms, but there were new ones on the second floor.  I saw a lot of familiar faces and assumed they were here to take care of their family members in the home.  By then Linny woke me up and told me the Physical Therapist was here.

I did my exercise, but I feel like an old man with all these healthcare workers around. And I am doing things that my elderly parents had to do. My self esteem is going down hill fast.

Linny went out with her friend this afternoon. I took that opportunity to do some shopping. I went to Family Dollar in hope of finding cheap fly spray. I do not know where the flies are coming in from, but I am not living like that. Next I went to the hardware store to buy a new toilet flush handle. I will try to fix it tomorrow.

 I went to Frisch’s to eat. I debated between fish and a cup of clam chowder or the salad bar. Money prevailed and I had the salad bar. I didn’t eat too much salad because of having diverticulosis, but I had three bowls of clam chowder. It was very good.

Next I went to Kroger. We needed some things at home and I needed to fix supper for Linny and Mom. Going to Kroger was a disheartening mistake. I got really short of breath and winded while walking up and down the isles. I never could find orange juice and gave up. Thankfully I made it back to the car and headed home.

However this really upset me. I was due to go back to work on March 14^th, but that is only a week away and I cannot even navigate around the grocery without feeling the need to sit down.  I will call the doctor on Monday and ask if I can be moved up to March 17^th. That will give me another weekend.

Linny’s friend was parked in the driveway, so I went around the block and by then she had left. I am so glad that Linny has some good friends. She has been locked up in a world of illness for too long. Linny is so intelligent and the program she is taking has given her tools to use her gift wisely. I am so proud of her. I am also so sad, because she is faced with me being ill and not dealing with it very well.

When I got home, I immediately went to bed and slept for two hours. I woke up at 8:30 pm. The groceries were where I left them, there were still more in the car and the dishes did not move into the dishwasher on their own.

I took care of that, but first noticed a letter from the Short Term Disability Company. It stated they had not received my forms. I had sent them in at the end of February and both doctors told me they had signed and faxed the form.

Thankfully, the center was open until 9 pm. I learned that I had been approved until March 17 and I could go back to work as late as the 18^th.  That is one less crisis to worry about this weekend.

I have prepared supper. I ate only a few bites as I am not hungry. I had ice cream for desert and decided to put my thoughts to paper before heading to bed.

I still have to make Mom’s bed and give her some dessert and coffee and then I am off to bed. I hope I feel better soon.

Six Days Out Of The Hospital - Still Feeling Bad

It is ten minutes past two o’clock. I’m itching like the devil.  Linny put my psoriasis medicine on my before I went to bed. I slept for about an hour and now I am itching like mad.  I’ve taken two Benadryl tablets and hope it stops.  I have to be up around eight this morning to go to the doctor.

I was at the cardiologist office today. It cost $59 which was $30 for the visit and $29 to fill out forms. I realize they don’t work for free, but right now I don’t work at all and money is tight.  I am so thankful that friends are helping.  I have no idea when I can go back to work. I have no clue as to what the cardiologist said on the forms he returned.  Where is the communication?  I don’t see him again until the end of the month.

Frankly, I am too weak to return to eight hours a day.  My appointment was a ten, so I woke up at 8 am and made a bowl of Rice Krispies for myself and had a glass of orange juice. Then showered, shaved and put on clothes.  Linny was too tired to go with me. She has been working very hard and I understand. It is just that when I get home she wants to know why I didn’t say this or ask that and I wonder why she didn’t just go with me.

Walking is getting more difficult. I don’t know if I am just weaker or scared.  Tonight Linny went to visit her mother and I had to drive over to pick her up.  The driveway for her mom’s condo was still all iced over. I started to walk after parking the car. I got about 10 feet and thought, I have fallen down too many times, screw this!  I parked the car on the street. But it was still iced over in some places.

I feel old since I have to use the chair lift to go up and down the basement stairs.  My hands feel funny. I am dehydrated and it shows in my shriveled up fingers. Touch feels odd.  Eating; everything tastes funny. I cannot imagine it is due to the medicine I take, since I am now taking less than I was before.  We stopped at Skyline Chili on the way home to eat supper. I’m not supposed to have gluten, but the gluten-free spaghetti tasted so bad, that I ate regular Skyline; a three-way and a Coney and neither tasted good or like it used to. I didn’t eat the bun. I only ate about ¾ of my 3-way.  The Pepsi cola tasted odd, so I asked for a glass of water.

God is taking care of me and my family. This is something I firmly believe.  Father Chris thinks I’m stoic. I’m not stoic, I am convinced. And I am tired and itchy and wondering what will happen and when I’ll get back to work.

Four Days Out of Hospital - I Need Some Cooperation

Today is Monday, March the 3^rd, 2014. I’ve been home from the hospital for four days.  I am really tired. When I sleep my dreams are very vivid, but I usually don’t remember them.

Last Friday I had a home health care nurse come and evaluate me. Honestly, she spent more time talking on her cell phone about another case than she did talking to me.  It was not an eventful day. I had to herd the dogs away from her several times.

On Saturday a Physical Therapist came to evaluate me. I was hospitalized in August because I suddenly could not stand up. This was the day of Linny’s profession in The Community of Jesus. Ever since then my balance has been off.  The Physical Therapist confirmed this by having me do some exercises. I have a significant left sided weakness.  She suggested that I use a cane and continue with therapy.

I would really like to go back to work. Money is tight. I have to have my Short Term Disability Forms in by March 11^th. I was supposed to see Dr. Dragan this morning and drop them off. But his office was closed for the day due to the bad weather.  He needs to sign off on me to go back to work.  I have another appointment on Wednesday with the cardiologist group. They too need to sign off to allow me to go back to work.

I am also at a dilemma. Can I work? Should I look into permanent disability?  I will be praying about these things while I am at home.

It was suggested to me to call my major debtors. Today I called Wells Fargo for my mortgage to explain that I have no income while I am off sick and I cannot pay my mortgage for this month. I’d love to say they were very helpful, but that is not the case. Just like most major businesses today, they don’t have a clue. I was transferred four times to differing departments. Finally they said since my mortgage is current, they cannot help me.

The same was true when I called about my car payment. I could not promise a payment since I don’t know when I’ll have income, so they couldn’t help.

It is tough these days. But I am sure there are people in worse situations.

Once Again, Back At The Hospital

I am just baffled at the past two weeks. I recently wrote about my time in the hospital coping with and being healed of Congestive Heart Failure. I was happy to finally come home and hoped I could spend a week recuperating before returning to work; but no!

On Monday evening, February 24^th I went to the bathroom, then I got up to flush the toilet and discovered it was full of blood and tarry stool.  About five or so years ago, I wrote of a similar experience and alluded to a noir detective novel that existed only in my mind called Frank Blood and the Tarry Stool. I flushed and went back to bed.

A half an hour later I once again felt the urge to use the toilet and this time there was no stool, only blood. An hour later the same thing happened, only this time I was feeling light headed and collapsed in bed.


I called for Linny. She woke our doctor up and a few minutes later I was in the car and heading to Saint Elizabeth Hospital. I insisted on going to the closest branch, which is in the town where I live.

The emergency room staff was awesome. I must have picked a great night, since there were very few patients.

After taking my vital signs, I announced I had to use the toilet again. My wife wheeled my wheel chair across the hall and waited for me. On getting up I was real light headed and I fainted. I think I mentioned that I was dying (which I was, from lack of blood) which upset my wife.  She told me the staff came rushing. The male nurse that was assisting me hurt his back lifting me back in the chair.

The got me onto an emergency room stretcher and brought the crash cart into my room.  My blood level was off, so two units of whole blood were ordered. The first was type O negative and the next was to be typed and cross-matched.  I was put on IV fluids running open. I was also be given a bolus dose. 

My blood pressure was dropping. Linny said it dropped to 70/50.  So my stretcher was lowered to a position where my head was lower than my feet. This helped.  The unit of blood brought me back to a conscious state.

The ER doctor came in to examine me and let me know I was not going home for a while; that and he was going to do a rectal exam. Lucky, lucky me, I think this doctor must have played basketball in college, since he had huge fingers.

My sister had been called and asked to stay with my mother. I was surprised that she and Mom came up to the hospital.  My daughter Rachael also came to be with me and her Mom. 

Within an hour I was transferred to a room and a more comfortable bed on the Transitional Care Unit. Along with the bed I received one of the battery operated EKG monitors. The leads for this, once again, were planted into my chest hair. I also received a hospital gown that revealed my butt and naughty bits.  An IV pump was set up alongside the bed and a smaller IV bag was added to my “D5W.”

Once again I had to explain the psoriasis to my care givers and once again they were happy that I applied my own ointment.

I was extremely thirsty, but I was put on an NPO status; Nothing Per Os or nothing by mouth.  I really wanted a big drink of cold, cold water and was told that was not going to happen.  I felt like the servant in the Bible that treated his debtor poorly. After he died, he was in Hades and begging God’s servant to dip his finger in water to let it dribble down.  I finally received some mouth swabs and a glass of warm water. I could dip the swabs to sooth my dry mouth. It helped.

I must have been put on a ‘take vitals every two hours’ status because just as I would doze off a nurse came into the room to exam me.  She would be followed up by a nurse aide who took my blood glucose level, then ending the parade was the phlebotomist that generally could not find a vein and criticized me for having tiny, dried-up rolling veins. After this I turned on the TV, found an old movie on TCM, dozed off and the process was repeated in two hours.  It made the night go by rather quickly.

The first day and night at the hospital, I could not stand up. Every time I did, I would feel like I was going to faint and needed to lie down. I was an expert with the urinal. As long as I kept my dingle-dangle in the opening I was fine.  It was difficult to determine when I had quit peeing. One I had a little accident on the blanket.

I had to use a bedpan. This unique device keeps you hinder just a few inches from whatever came out of it. In my case it was more congealed blood.

There was no place to walk and I certainly didn’t feel like it.  The hospital uses Direct TV, so the channels were limited and some of them came in as good as I remember our rabbit-ears antennae reception on out-of-town stations. I am usually able to find some great old movies on TMC. I watched Green Dolphin Street, The Little Foxes and National Velvet.  All of the shows were very melancholy. They were well written and acted.

The second day was much better. I was getting a little stronger and after a few attempts I could sit on the edge of the bed without feeling light-headed. Once again, I threw privacy and self-respect to the wind.

This time nursing school students from two different schools ascended upon me. They poked, prodded and asked the same questions. “On a scale of one-to-ten what kind of pain do you feel?”  I felt no pain other than that of the nursing students rolling me about in bed to check out my lungs, by listening to my back. Honestly, this was mostly done by the hospital staff. I think the phlebotomist took blood four or five times a day.

The nurse aides would come in once a day and ask me to take a bath. This was done by walking to the bathroom, providing me with a plastic basin, a bar of soap and several wash clothes. I did have some shampoo and a disposable razor.  The routine was for me to wash my face, arms, chest, pits, top of my legs and groin.

The aide would come in to do my back side.  I had a one pound heart monitor with seven or eight leads going to patches that were glued onto my chest. I also had two IV bags hanging on a stand that were attached to a pump/monitor that was power by a ten foot electric cord, which was plugged in next to my bed. It was impossible to bath without getting my gown all wet. But I sure tried.

The aide arrived to do my back, but and legs. Off came the gown; I was a chubby white boy standing there in my all-together with a young lady washing me off.  Anyone thinking this sounds like a letter written to a porn magazine, needs to understand I have a bad breakout of psoriasis, my rectum is bleeding, I’ve just gotten over congestive heart failure and in general I feel like crap. I don’t think the aide was getting much of a thrill seeing someone who looks like her granddad in the nude.

Thankfully I got a clean gown on and she put clean bed linens on the hospital bed. I don’t think I mentioned I was sleeping on puppy pee-pee pads. These were the same thing I use for my dogs only they were St. Bernard sized.

Finally, February 26^th arrived and I was assured, at six AM that I was going to have a colonoscopy at one PM that day.  The nurse came in once again, weighed me, measured my vital signs and left a 4,000 ml jug of something called “Golightly.”

I doubt that it was named in honor of the main character in Breakfast At Tiffany’s, Holly Golightly. I was not well enough to do the math, but have since determined 4,000 ml equal 16.9071 cups. There are 16 cups in a gallon and I was told to chug a gallon of this nasty tasting crap. My plan was to drink two cups then lie down, then get up and chug two more cups and repeat.

About 10 AM the nurse announced I had to drink faster.  Oh, I forgot to mention that I could drink water. And I could have a clear liquid diet.

A half hour latter the Golightly kicked in and I had to go. By this time I could walk to the bathroom, so I took myself in and sat down.  More blood gushed out and I told the nurse. I was told that I needed a tap water enema to be done until I was clear. This task fell on the nursing student and his instructor. I had the choice of doing this in bed and attempting to jump onto a bedside commode or to go to the toilet. Since I was not much of a gymnast I opted for the toilet.

The nursing student was somewhat shaky and did not have clear direction as to how to navigate another male’s anus. I had to give directions. After he did hit the jackpot with the end of the enema tube I had to beg the instructor to find some Vaseline.  I am not a very good enema water retainer, and after half a gallon was put in, it near immediately came out.  This trick was done twice and thankfully on the second attempt I was clear and allowed to stumble back into my hospital bed.

The stretcher arrived for the colonoscopy procedure and the transporter gave me a wild ride through the halls of the hospital. I narrowly escaped hitting several nurses and a lady in a wheel chair. He took me down the elevator to the endoscopy room.

I was able to ask the nurse a few questions about colonoscopies. I was especially keen to know how the long tubes were cleaned.  I didn’t want the e-coli of someone else to wind up in my bowel.  I found out the tubes were soaked in Cidex. Nothing has changed since 1972.

I had to have a new IV, so another needle was stuck into my hand.  I had to get up twice to poo before I went into the endoscopy room.

The nurses helped to position me on my left side, butt in the air with towels and pee-pee pads under me. The nurse nearest to my head told me it was time as she injected my IV with Michael Jackson Juice and I lost consciousness.

I have no idea how I got back into my hospital room. I woke up and my wife was next to my bed. I have no clue as to the events of the day since I was talking to the nurse in the endoscopy room.

Sometime during the middle of the night I was told I would be going home that day. Hooray!  The nurse guessed it would be around 10 AM.  I relayed this to my wife when she called.

Linny was at the hospital at 10 AM, but the doctors were no where to be found.

The first person to show up was a nurse practitioner from the GI doctor’s office. She said, yes I could go home but needed to wait for the Hospitalist to sign off. I asked her about taking Coumadin but she passed the buck to the heart doctor. Dr. Banks, the Hospitalist, finally showed up just before noon. He asked a lot of questions and I had a few for him. He seemed to think I could go back to work on Monday and that I needed to wait a week before taking Coumadin.

I got dressed and gathered my belongings. I had no underwear or socks, but I was still wearing the George Washington hosiery the hospital provided to prevent embolism.  Just before I left Doctor Williams, the head of the GI department arrived to sign off on me. He seemed to think I should wait a couple of weeks before resuming Coumadin.

I was planning to return to work on Monday; however a home health care nurse came to my home yesterday. She noted that I have an appointment with the cardiologist on Wednesday and I should wait until all my appointments have concluded.