Arthur returned on March 13th and as soon as he saw me, he knew something must be done. He said first, he wanted something on my hands to keep me from scratching my face so I was “fitted” with white fuzzy gloves. I was scratching so badly that I was becoming a problem for myself. I told Arthur that I did not have to worry about hell because I was already there. My condition continued to deteriorate and on the 15th of March, I was sent to ICU. I was in a state of coma and did not open my eyes until Saturday the 19th of March. During the time I was in ICU, another catheter was installed in my right arm to receive medication and to take blood samples. I did not open my eyes or respond to anyone or anything for approximately seven days. As I was coming out of the coma, I remember lying in bed in a facility and being very tired. There was a clock in my room and I knew I needed to go to the grocery store and it was getting late but I was still so tired that I thought I would rest for just a few more minutes. I could see people in the other room through glass doors and it seemed they were trying to trick me by moving from place to place when I was not looking at them. Then in the back of the room, they seemed to move on people movers because they would move across the room but make no walking motion. I remember some of them coming into my room, call my name and press my toes and thumbs. On March 19th when Arthur was allowed into my room, my eyes were open and I recognized him and smiled but was still unable to speak.

On Saturday March 20th, I was trying to talk. The feeding tubes had been removed and I was being fed a liquid (Arthur called kangaroo juice). Late that afternoon our youngest son, Mark, flew from Milwaukee and arrived at the hospital. I immediately recognized him and reached out to hug him. We hugged and I continued with conversation and Mark understood and asked me if I said, “I want to go home?” and I said yes and now! The remainder of the day and night, I insisted I was going home. I even offered to make my bed, not let anyone sit on it and mop the floors if they would let me go home.

Visiting times in ICU are limited and Arthur and Mark had to leave. Mark came to our apartment in Houston and Arthur stayed in the waiting room. I was still not completely in the real world because I kept getting reality and imagination confused. The television was on in my room and I saw a news show that frightened me and I let the nurses know about it. A nurse came into my room to comfort me but I would have none of that. He asked what had frightened me and I told him it was something I saw on T V and I was afraid and knew I could not trust anyone or anything. He said I was safe there and didn’t I feel I could trust him. I said that I could not trust him and remember being so frightened. I finally told him I wanted to have the station changed to Fox News because it was the only news I could trust. He tried to find it but could not at the time.

He left and I was trying to go leave that place and fell out of bed. Shortly after that Arthur came back in and found me on the floor. He told them he would spend the remainder of the night by my bedside. They allowed him this accommodation and I remember occasionally looking to see if he was still there and he was and I was then able to rest.

Sunday afternoon I was transferred back to the Stem Cell Recovery Floor much to the relief of everyone (especially the nurses in ICU).

The next posting will be about my last week in the hospital