My time in the hospital this past May was beneficial in that they discovered an ulcerated duodenum, the culprit depleting my hemoglobin. They also detected an abdominal aortal aneurism. The ulcer would heal with a few days of antibiotics; the aneurism would require surgery and a stent.
Out of the hospital, I learned that the staff had failed to heal the ulcer. I again grew weak. A little more than a month after my first stay, I was forced to return once again. Going to the hospital was not a lovely way to spend July 4th. In addition to antibiotics several times a day, I also received blood transfusions on nine consecutive days until my hemoglobin count reached a reasonable level.
During that time, I ate very little of the delicious offerings from the hospital kitchen. In fact, from July 15 to the 18th, I consumed no food whatsoever, only tea and water. I simply was not hungry. The result is that, after two weeks in hospital, I had somehow managed to lose ten kilograms (22 pounds). I’m not denying that I need to lose weight, but such a big loss in such a short timeframe strikes me as a bit dangerous.
When I left the hospital on the 18th, I again felt extremely weak and without any appetite. Ditto for the next day. But today, my strength began to return. And I ate!
It was not an entirely dreary two weeks in hospital. My friends, Martin and Zoe, and now Karol, their nine-month-old son, wanted to visit. I revealed my current circumstance. Martin then quickly wrote back and asked whether they could steal me from the hospital for a few hours. I agreed and proposed Friday, which just happened to be my birthday.
Martin met me at 5:00 PM at the hospital, and we then walked to the car. Zoe was on the lawn with Karol. Karol has predominantly European features, but with slightly almond shaped eyes. Tall men run on both sides of the family. So, I surmise that Karol will grow up to be an extremely handsome man.
We drove to the Castle Distillery, on the road on the way to the castle. The place was beautiful inside, although mostly vacant. And the food was very, very tasty. I ordered a salad (finally – salad!) and pork ribs. I also had a small beer, but don’t tell the doctor. We spent two and a half hours eating and talking, with topics still remaining by the time our meal ended.
How we became such good friends seems entirely accidental. It started with Martin wanting to do a documentary on Slovak diaspora whose later generations returned to Slovakia. Partly at my urging, the documentary did not take place, but our friendship was born. I am now extremely fond of them.
Today I drove to Košice for a scheduled CT exam. It was a little weird, in that they injected something into my arm so that it would show up on the results. Next, I expect another endoscopy to check on my ulcer, and then surgery to place a stent in my weakened abdominal aortal wall. What fun!
I told very few people that I was again in hospital. I do not want my health to be the focus of my existence. Otherwise, I will begin to feel like a sick and feeble old man (which is not so far too from the truth).