A S C R A P B O O K O F S O L U T I O N S F O R T H E P H O T O G R A P H E R
Enhancing the enjoyment of taking pictures with news that matters, features that entertain and images that delight. Published frequently.
26 August 2024
We returned to the Emergency Room Friday at noon, after escaping early Thursday morning. After a few tests and hours waiting in the ER, we were admitted to the seventh floor of the hospital for observation very late Friday night.
In the morning, we took a photo of the view out our one little window. It seemed, at the time, poetic. Some sort of metaphor for the whole adventure.
The battered dishes standing in for our concussed brain. The vent for our cough. The pigeon deterrents for medication. Blue skies never hurt either.
Oh, and that criss-crossing wire reinforcement on the window pane? Just the ticket for our enforced containment.
So we have a not-entirely-irrational fondness for this image.
We'd been admitted for observation because an MRI had disclosed a bleed at the top of our brain. Our heart rate was the main focus, though. It was, at rest, in the low fifties, which was "concerning," as one says when wearing a white coat.
But trained athletes have lower heart rates at rest. In the forties, in fact. And while we aren't in training, we're very active. So as long as it was asymptomatic, as one doc told us, we were (probably) fine.
Of course, there's still the double vision and pain walking to resolve (not to mention the cough). But that isn't quite as "concerning."
So we were released by dinner time. Which was a great disappointment to the guy brining us the enchilada we had ordered. "I can give it to you to go in a bag," he pleaded.
We'd been looking forward to it, frankly, so we accepted. You take what you can get.
And we thoroughly enjoyed it once we were back within the walls of our home with a view of the Pacific Ocean.