Tag Archives: scar

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New scar and whale songs

My receptionist of 6 years at Quimper Family Medicine, Pat McKinney, died on February 6th. The photograph is from October, when I was in Port Townsend again for two weeks. She and I went for a walk. Well, I was walking and she was in a wheelchair. She was in hospice for over a year.

We had fun working together. Pat played music at her desk because the patient rooms were not quite sound proof enough. One day she was playing whale songs. I hear her on the phone with a patient. “The noise? Those are whale songs.” Pause. “Oh, Dr. Ottaway insists on whale songs.” I started laughing, because she was the one that picked them. So much for MY reputation.

When the covid vaccine came out, I got mine as a first responder. A few days later we had a lull between patients. I was standing in the hall near Pat’s desk. I said, “I don’t know why people are fussing about the vaccine, it seems fine to me,” and I gave a big twitch. Pat started laughing. I could set her off all day by twitching at her.

Patricia McKinney, 2/17/1943 – 2/5/2025.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt scars.

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Catch and release

The chances of you changing are quite small.
I know from very early in our time.
Why God makes angels that will one day fall.
We could be sent to teach each other rhymes
or something else. I wonder at it daily.
My heart opens like a flower even so.
The candle just at dusk burns quite palely.
I wonder what excuse you’ll use to go.
It’s a comic denouement I see at last.
You denigrate my knowledge and my skill.
After exposure you refuse to wear a mask
or test. I rise in anger at ill will.
It’s comic that I’ve liked your busy mind.
Respect for mine is nil: you elk’s behind.

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tubing

The oxygen tubing follows me everywhere.

I have a large concentrator for inside the house. There is long green tubing that I plug into the pale tubing that goes to my nose.

When I go upstairs, it’s a bit complicated. I have to unplug the pale tubing and plug the upstairs long green tubing into the downstairs long green tubing and the other end into the pale tubing. Then untangle it and I can walk around upstairs and still breathe.

To go outside, I have small cannisters. Unplug from the big concentrator, plug into the small cannister, turn the concentrator off, turn the small cannister on. Get purse and whatever the heck else I am carrying. Try to remember if the small tank is close to empty. I am carrying an extra small tank in the car. I have to turn the tank off to change the respirator, then bleed the remaining pressure, then take the respirator off. Yesterday I put the respirator on upside down. The tank hissed at me like a terrifying snake. I have warning signs in my front and back windows now: do not smoke, oxygen in use.

I took care of a man in the hospital overnight once who HAD smoked on oxygen. The ER doc called me to admit him. “He lit his oxygen on fire with a cigarrette.” “And how bad is he?” “We need to monitor his lungs.” “IF HE HAS LUNG BURNS SHIP HIM TO SEATTLE, HELLO!!!” “Well,” says the ER doc, “Ok, he’s probably fine, just burned his nose. But I am not quite comfortable sending him home.” “Oh, well, then, geez. Okay, whatever.” Wimpy ER doc. I didn’t mind once he was honest. The patient admitted that he did not want to do THAT again and yes, his nose felt pretty burned.

No smoking at my house. I am not tempted to smoke ANYTHING. When I was twelve, I smoked pretzels with my cousins and sister. They do not stay lit well but we laughed a lot. It was really fun.

I don’t have enough green tubing for the basement. So there are monsters and I don’t go there any more. No, I can use one of the portable cannisters to start a load of laundry. I am supposed to only use the portable cannisters when I leave the house. Used one yesterday to go in the front yard and garden. Stomped the spade in, levered up the grass. Wait and breathe. Wait. Ok, stomp the spade in the next place. Wait and breathe. Wait.

I get more oxygen on Wednesdays. Tomorrow. If I BEHAVE then after a month, I will get a small concentrator that I can walk around with. Then I won’t have the bloody tubing tail. I am seriously looking forward to that. I still will have the tail some of the time because the concentrator will have charging and a battery life and AUGH MY OXYGEN RAN OUT WATCH OUT WORLD I AM HYPOXIC AND DANGEROUS!

I trip over the tubing and it gets tangled and I get caught on things and it yanks at my head. My dance skills and balance are way better right now ON oxygen than OFF it. I am not nearly as neurologically whacked out when I have the oxygen. Makes me wonder… I don’t feel nearly as much OCD/ADHD/oppositional defiant. Well, ok, the oppositional defiance is rather baseline for me.

Makes me impatient, but then, whatever. I will still get stuff done. You are only as disabled as you decide to be and this will barely slow me down. Hope I get off oxygen eventually, but that is not clear. With repeat infections your lungs can scar. Hope not. Time will tell.

And donate to something to get oxygen to India. I can hardly bear to look at the news about it. I felt so awful with just mild hypoxic, that went undiagnosed for 5 weeks. Dying of suffocation is not fun. Donate.