Go to the homepage for the Sylva Herald and Ruralite

Ruralite Cafe: Published 5/11/00

By Lynn Hotaling



More personal knowledge

 By Lynn Hotaling - Associate Editor
It feels like deja vu all over again. The last time I wrote here, I talked about the difference it makes when knowledge becomes personal rather that abstract.

Then, the subject was erosion and the impact it makes when the silt in question is in your own backyard as opposed to being a problem for someone else; now, it's the unexpectedly personalized awareness of what it means to be really sick.

I had surgery April 14, and according to plan, I should have been back at work by May 1, swapping stories in the Cafe and generally keeping up with Sylva's doings. Instead, I found myself still in the hospital that day, recuperating from major infections, along with their associated fever and delirium. Somehow, I managed to misplace the week of April 24-28. I mean, I know where I was (Room 306 in Harris Regional) - I just don't remember much about what went on during those five days.

I guess I knew people sometimes suffer complications after surgery and have to go back to the hospital for treatment. While I may have been aware of it, the reality meant nothing to me until I joined the ranks of the small percentage of surgical patients who suffer such problems.

As amazing as it was that I could get violently ill so fast, it was equally astounding that doctors and nurses could help me get better so quickly.

Because of a penicillin allergy, some of the doctors' first-choice medicines weren't available, so I got to see some alternate methods. One of the antibiotics that proved effective is only deliverable intravenously. Since I needed more days of medication than hospitalization, I learned about Home Health nurses and what amazing services they perform. I'm sure I'd heard about the existence of these dedicated individuals, but I had no idea of the hours these nurses put in whenever and wherever they're needed. They arrive promptly, competently perform their ministrations and then head out to wherever they're needed next.

As to the staff at Harris, from the emergency room to the floor nurses, I can attest to their patience and excellence. The third floor seemed to be populated with nurses and assistants who possessed an unending supply of kindness and competence. Since I don't remember all of the days, I unfortunately don't remember all of their names, but the ones I do recollect - Angie, Amy, Kim, Vickie, Casey and Patti - played a vital part in my getting well enough to write this.

A neat thing happened on the way out of the hospital last Tuesday, too. One of the very nice third-floor ladies, I think it was Vickie, was pushing me through the halls on the way to my waiting husband. Taking a look at my T-shirt, she said, "Oh, do you like Emmylou Harris too?" When I replied that Emmylou was my favorite of all singers, Vickie said, "Mine too. I like the way she sings - and I like it that she doesn't let them make her dye her hair."

My sentiments exactly. And when I found Emmylou on television Saturday night, hosting a singer/songwriter special on "Austin City Limits," I took it as a good omen. Things are definitely looking up. And I'm feeling a lot better.

Back to Archive: 05/11/00.