I believe that in my last blog I mentioned that I was going to be going to Colorado for a family wedding. The wedding was wonderful, and I got to spend time with family members that I don't get to see often.
Then, the day after the wedding, as if some sort of Cosmic Karma had bestowed gifts upon me, I found out that my nephew (bless his heart) had gotten a hold of two tickets to the Broncos/Chiefs game in Denver on Sunday. Since it really doesn't have much to do with the main subject of this blog, I haven't talked about my major love of NFL, and especially, the Denver Broncos. Everyone has to have something to blow off steam, or a form of escapism, whatever, and mine happens to be NFL. I've been a football fan since I was but a wee-little thing of 8 or 9 years old. Growing up within 100 miles of Arrowhead stadium, one might (MISTAKENLY) assume that I am a Chief's fan. But, this is the furthest from the truth. I've always been a MAJOR Denver Bronco's fan. Through good and through bad, I've loved my Broncos. And just by nature of being a Broncos fan, I hate the Chiefs. (for those of you who may not know this, they are division rivals)
So, I've had the chance to see the Broncos play one other time. It was a brilliant Monday night game in Kansas City in which Denver completely annihilated the Chiefs. That was many years ago. So, I jumped at the chance to see them teamed up again, this time on the home field.
So, I quickly changed my travel plans, so that I would be flying home on Tuesday rather than Sunday.
My brother-in-law added to the excitement by telling me about something he had read in the morning paper. He said that my Cosmic Karma seemed to be continuing, because a small gallerey here in Ft. Collins had been selected among a very few for a showing of signed photographs taken by a famous photographer who had travelled with Paul McCartney on his 2002 tour. The art show had just opened, and would be there for a few weeks. So, after the Broncos beat the Chiefs on Sunday (joy) I got to go to a gallery and see some exquisite photographs of Paul McCartney. They were signed by both the photographer and Sir Paul. Of course, they also cost $1,250.00 a piece (unframed), but I did buy a nice hard-back book fillled with those photos plus many more.
I suppose that I should have known that things were going too well for me, but my mind doesn't usually work that way. On the advice of friends and family, I had decided to start varying my "clear liquid" diet in order to get my stomach ready to digest real food so that I could break the fast with the rest of the peace community at the end of our vigil on Thursday, the 21st. I had drank about half a glass of tomato juice Saturday morning, and also had some orange juice at some point. I bought a "fruit smoothie" drink from a convenience store after the game, and bought some Ensure-type drinks from the grocery store. On Monday evening, I drank one of the Ensure drinks, and another in the morning. My stomach wasn't feeling real great, but I didn't think too much of it.
That was...until I actually got to the airport around noon on Tuesday. I rushed to the restroom, and was sick in more ways than I care to discuss here. At some point, a sweet custodian became very concerned about me, and got another airport person. This woman tried to help me by getting me cold wet paper towels for my forehead and neck, but she quickly decided that I was sick beyond that point. By the time that the airport medics arrived, I was shaking so hard I was almost convulsing. Perhaps that is why the man had so much trouble inserting an IV---I think he was probably just not real good at it, and I was dehydrated which makes it hard to find a good vein. He did get me to bleed really well all over the restroom floor though! He, in turn called an ambulance. (after taking my vitals, finding out about my fast, etc.)
So, I got wheeled out of the Denver airport on an ambulance gurney, with an IV coming out of my arm, bandaged hands from the failed IV attempts, and blood all over my left hand. I did have a moment of funky clarity at this point, thinking--"Man, what a wasted photo-op! This would be great publicity!"
In the ambulance, they decided that that the IV in my arm wasn't good enough, and that they needed to insert another one in the only good veins left in my body. So, they pulled over on the shoulder, and inserted an IV in my neck! That was really freaky, and pretty painful. Once at the hospital, it was a blur of activity. I was hooked up to an EKG which monitored my vitals, and I had 2 IV's pumping me full of fluids filled with all sorts of healthy stuff. After getting my blood work back, my doctor told me that he was very impressed that I wasn't in worse shape for going 39 days without any food. He said that they should be able to "fix me", and that he didn't think that I had done any permanent damage to my body-yet. He did say, however, that it was IMPERITIVE that I start eating a healthy diet now, or I would do permanent damage to myself.
So, I slept off and on--waking to urgent needs to pee, as they were dumping massive amounts of fluids in me. (I was hooked up to all sorts of things, so this was never an easy process, and I had to go down the hall) I had gotten a hold of my sister who lives in Ft. Collins and had dropped me off at the airport to tell her where I was. My main concern though, was the husband. By the time I knew I was going to the hospital, and was not going to be able to fly, he had already left home in Fulton for the 2 1/2 to 3 hour drive to the KCI airport. And he doesn't have a cell phone. There was no way for me to get a hold of him to tell him that I wasn't going to be there, and that I was in the hospital in Denver. Major, major stress.
My sister arrived with perfect timing as to when they decided that my blood pressure was high enough, my electrolytes close enough to balanced, and my body adequetely hydrated to release me. It was just after 7:00 p.m., so I guess I was there about 6 hours.
Since I had told my husband at the beginning of this fast, that if it effected my health negatively I would begin eating again, I agreed with the doctor and nurse when they asked me to begin eating.
My sister and I stopped on the way home at KFC, and I got some mashed potatoes to eat. So, very unceremoniously, and only 2 days short of my goal, I broke my hunger strike last night with mashed potatoes.
My sister had called and left messages with everyone she could think of that my husband might call, but none of them had heard from him. Finally, about 5 1/2 hours after the flight I was supposed to be on had landed in Kansas City, my husband called. He had waited around the airport for a couple of flights from Denver, thinking perhaps he had the time wrong, then checke the other terminals to see if he had the wrong airline, then decided that I "had probably gotten sick or something", and drove back home. My stress was gone, but I felt badly that he had wasted most of his day.
I had thought that I would just fly home today, but I woke up feeling very much like I had been in a car wreck, so travel has been delayed until tomorrow. (Thursday) Unfortunately, due to scheduling, I won't be arriving in Columbia until 7:30 p.m. tomorrow evening. I will miss the entire vigil, and the potluck to break the fast. I had been looking forward to this gathering and event more than anyone knows, and my heart is broken that I won't be there to take part in it.
I guess that I should just be happy that I'm here and somewhat healthy.