The drug overdose that nearly killed me

On Friday, 30 April, I almost died from a drug overdose of a prescription medicine. 

You often hear about people having similar experiences; but it my case, there’s a twist: the drug was prescribed by one of my doctors who ordered a dosage amount that was about sixteen-times more than he should have. In fact, it turns out that – considering my damaged kidneys – I should never have been prescribed this drug at all. 

A few days after I began taking this drug, I started to cough up blood. Copious amounts of it. I could not sleep on my back without aggravating my lungs into bleeding more. It appears the overdose caused the alveoli in my lungs to burst (causing the bleeding) which greatly reduced the ability of my body to process oxygen. 

The day I went into the hospital was – by coincidence – the day before I was to re-start my monthly chemo regimen. I called my chemo-doctor office to inquire whether – in light of my coughing up blood – I should hold off starting the chemo. Luckily for me, my chemo nurse, Leslie, told me to hang up the phone and go to the emergency department. 

(I’m stoic by nature. If I get a little sick or have a little injury, I just deal with it and move on. As I have joked a lot this past week, my arm would actually have to be severed from my body for me to think it was time to go to the hospital. ["Tis but a scratch," in the words of the Black Knight.] But, Leslie is a smart cookie. I respect her knowledge enough to know if she said it, I should do it.) 

So, my husband, Matt, dropped me off at the hospital Friday afternoon – where I was admitted almost at once. Upon examination, it turned out that I had lost so much blood that my hemoglobin level was 6.3 – below the acceptable 7.0 and far below the desired 8.0. So, the transfusions began, four units over the next week, trying to get my blood level up to where it should be. (Keep in mind that my bone-marrow cancer and damaged kidneys greatly reduce my ability to make new red blood cells.) 

After eight days in the hospital, I realize how very close to death I came, and how very lucky I had been to call my doctor and speak to Leslie.

Under the Dome

In 1996, my “new” boyfriend, Matt, and I made our second foray into southern California for a little visit. It was an ambitious trip that included a tour of the Warner Bros Studio, a visit to Union Station in Los Angeles, a quick kiss behind the abandoned Perino’s Restaurant on Wilshire, staying in a hotel across the street from Charlie Chaplin’s old studio, a drive by Ramon Novarro’s house in the hills, a quick visit to the Griffith Park Observatory, then the Stephen Birch Aquarium and the “Nations of the World” bungalows in Balboa Park in San Diego, AND Disneyland. 

As usual, we had our trip planned down to the minute, with just enough time set aside to drive from place to place. I believe in being organized when I travel. You get to see and do so much more when you plan well. 

But then, a wrench: while touring Warner Bros, we discovered that not only was it the fortieth anniversary of the wonderful film “Giant” (1956), but the film was being shown as a special engagement at the Cinerama Dome in Hollywood. I had seen the film before and loved it; Matt had not. Well, you don’t often get a chance to see a classic wide-screen film on the kind of wide-screen screen for which it was intended, so we decided we had to go see the movie. 

The movie clocked in at about 3.5 hours, so of course it threw off our schedule, but it was worth it. There is probably no cinema like the Cinerama Dome in the entire world. It was a real thrill to sit in the darkened theater, watching this sprawling Western with Elizabeth Taylor, Rock Hudson, James Dean and Mercedes McCambridge. 

Now, comes word that the Cinerama Dome and its parent company, Pacific Cinemas, are being closed permanently owing to the virus. To say it is a great loss to cinema is an understatement. Since it opened in 1963, it has hosted hundreds of films, many made in the large 70mm format – in which the film image stretches far to your left and to your right, immersing the viewer in the story of the film. 

If the Cinerama Dome is not saved, it will be an irreplaceable loss to the film-going public.

Books I’m Reading

Am reading this. 

Just finished reading this.

Books I’m Reading

Am reading this. 

Just finished reading this. 

Books I’m Reading

 Am reading this. 

Just finished reading this. 

Books I'm Reading

Am reading this. 

Just finished reading this. 

Books I’m Reading

Am reading this. 

Just finished reading this.

Fifteen Years

I was a bit surprised to realize I started this blog fifteen years ago today: 18 December 2005. I did 19 posts that first year, and a total of 1201 in all these years combined. When this blog began, Facebook was limited to schools and universities; and Twitter and other social media forms did not yet exist.

Over the years, people lost interest in blogs, replacing them in their lives with social media. I think that’s kinda sad as I prefer the longer form platform where I can share a story or a thought. The newer platforms seem best for people with short attention spans, who only want to converse in 140 characters (since expanded to 280 – which seems too short for some politicians).

In the end, what is the point of this post? Nothing much, really; just a desire to observe that I’ve been writing this blog sporadically for one-quarter of my life.

The Kissing Bug

I was in scouting most of my childhood. We did a lot of activities, including spending weekends in Northern Arizona on nature outings for which my father was sometimes chaperone. During the winter, our troop would sell mistletoe for the season. To do this, our troop and some dads would go up into the Northern Arizona forests and find outcrops of parasitic mistletoe growing on trees. I have no photographs of my involvement in this, but I have lots of memories.

We had long pruning sticks that we would use to cut off bunches of mistletoe (no one was allowed to climb into the towering trees), gather them into bundles and then go home. This took a good part of the day. Next step was getting together to put small bunches of mistletoe into plastic bags. After that, we would pick a series of dates to sit outside grocery stores and sell these bags. I think they were priced at 25-cents each. We donated the proceeds to different charities over the years.

I remember being very enthusiastic about this project. It was fun harvesting the mistletoe, bagging it and selling it. My strongest memory of the project was how sticky my hands would get from the juice of the squished berries.

Books I’m Reading

Am reading this. 

Just finished reading this.