My dear friends one does not know where the day will take you. Fatigue, and flashing lights of orange,  explosions in my head, and fluorescent light feeling in my arms, dizzy and nausea . Snoozed thru the previous afternoon, “meditating.” Thought it was getting worse……so I got a taxi, went to sit in the emergency room.

Greeted by a Muslim woman in an hijab who asked me to change my mask, scrub with sanitizer (which I wobbled to do.) please take a number, I took two. Then onto a masked mumbling male triage nurse who was not fully bilingual but enough. I was worried I would not hear my numbers and apologized I that I had taken two when I went in. I would come to find out that the numbers went to a hundred and started over. I was 82 and 83 and would remain until 14ish. My vitals were taken and it was deemed I could sit and sit I did. I had thought it was an optic migraine. I would prior to my departure from home have called the eye surgeon. (Who at the best of times is never available and this is lingering Christmas break for many.) Her phone lines shut until Monday. I pondered my next move, called the GP clinic, having to look for the phone number, which I had forgotten was now on my ancient flip phone. The secretaries told me there was no one to speak to. Both the message machine and the secretaries told me to head to the ER.  Which I would do, because I had taken an Advil. It only made the dizziness worse. ( I do not take one bit of medication, and use Advil for aches and pains of overdoing it at boot camp, thought it might help. No, it was not the thing to do.)

I thought “I cannot drive in this condition.” This was when I was holding myself up thinking “this is not normal.” I am so infrequently sick I think I am faking somehow and I will recover momentarily. Nope not this time I ascertained. and called the taxi driver, a former steel worker with bad knees to take me to the hospital up the street Went in the wrong door, still thinking this was not urgent. Directed in another direction.

I went to register at the desk. The lady behind the desk assumed I was old, asking if I had help in the home along with the usual “in case of emergency questions” I was still  questioning and then asking myself should I have come by the way. Whirling in my mind of another sort. 

Thus with the TV on too low to hear, waiting for names over the intercom, there was some chat amongst the customers, about masks, the pandemic, how we seemed to have stayed in “orange” and had not slipped yet into red. I watched a cleaner as I had chosen a seat just in front of the common toilets, organizing his mask, his screen, his rags, his sanitizers watching as he remembered the protocols on how he was to use and what order gloves, liquids and move his cart away. I would meet him later doing the same thing to rooms that I would frequent and vacate. A woman in brown would sanitize the seats, coming and going throughout my time in the waiting room. She had turquoise hair. There were deliveries of boxes, and in plastic picnic hampers used in other times and places for less urgent matters.

While numb and a while later, I remembered my meditations. I am after all only human. The first of the series was last June, calling on Light beings, guardian angels. Which I did. Muttering incantations of “COME ON!” and probably ” HELP!”  BOOM! they did. I was called, the doors were opened, I was in on the other side. The young doctor introduced himself as Remi. Somebody’s grandson. He had me follow his finger, walk in a straight line which was not pretty. He looked deep into my eyes. listened to my neck. Thus, “to be sure” ordered blood work, ekg and a cat scan. This again was to take time.  I had the answer to that!  I called on the invisible army and WHOOSH in came the tecks. Human grade angels.

I had laid down, thinking that was a good thing. Laying down was not the problem, getting up was. Whoosh! Away went the walls. Would not have been able to find the cat scan place as it is an older hospital with lots of twists and turns if I had been weller. I was in fact escorted to meet “Keith” another young fella who claimed 10 years experience. Who asked yet again who I was and looked to see if I matched the paper bracelet. My response to “what was my date of birth?” was ” I am much too young to be this old.” Which I am.64.5 years old celebrating my unbirthday January 01.  The months are only important when you are extremely young or getting old, which I seem to be. It’s a wonder. Thus I lay down and in I went, three times in fact stiped of my meager jewelry. (but bought in celebration of my weight loss and hair cut) One earring is still in my coat pocket. (we hope) 

Back we went to the waiting room, which had the cast of characters, minus some of them due to coming and going. The security, the deliveries, the Muslim woman on covid duty and the child. I had not done anything to encourage her, but over she toddled with dad close at hand, up she climbed, Covid or no  The father explained to me why they were there. Her tiny knuckles were swollen. She has a tag of mine in her mouth, she is teething. I asked if they had a pediatrician, which is what they needed, nor a GP. No they had just moved from Ontario and probably don’t have any Grammys to assure the young mom and dad. I dug thru my emergency phone numbers that I had written down earlier in the day to hand them the number of the clinic that teaches young doctors their trade. Please try and see if they will take you on. (Please please please I chant after they leave.) The father is effusive in his thanks organizing the little one into pink jackets, mittens and the like. The weird thought were when she stood up I held her but thought I had become very strong. But there was a layer of weakness and did not want her to fall. Interesting. 

My name is called from on high. I do not think I have the strength to wheel myself so I raise myself up and walk, leaning to the left strangely, still thinking I can overcome it with sheer force of will. I met the young gentleman with lots of education whose grandmother is proud. I am not having a stroke, heart attack or major incident, but do have Vertigo with “Classic symptoms.” Lying down is harder etc. He hands me a piece of paper with excises to do. What next is supper. Into the fresh air I go, and list left all the way home.

ALL this to say is, I am so grateful I presented a card with my name on it, in the middle of a worldwide pandemic, I was assured with bloodwork, heart monitoring and a brain scan I was okay. I am so grateful I am so grateful. I watched a lot of people work on my behalf without cost to me. I am grateful.