A Scary Weekend

Well, dear children, by now you will know what happened on friday, I myself being the object of all the kerfuffle and thus unable to bring you my usual report. I do make light of my problem to keep up all our spirits, but at the same time promised Stef to tell all. Thanks to Merel everything turned out OK and I am back once more in the bosom of my family. It all began at the Crejat Acedemie, for me the high-spot of the week. I felt unwell and crept away to the bog during a masterful lecture on the treatment of shadows in practical portrait painting. I lost quite a bit of blood, but this has happened before. The second attack came fortunately just before the coffee break, when most people were out of the room and I thought I could risk a quick WC visit without my fellow students noticing my love for the place. This time it was more severe and unstoppable and I was dismayed to find that my trousers looked like a crime-scene on CSI. '50 calibre, Captain. Right in the jacksy. Forensics are on the way'. Since the toilet was in the storeroom, I could have just opened a tin and shouted 'what a stupid place to leave red paint'. But I didn't think of it, and it would not have convinced anyone because there was only Chrome Yellow and Neon Green. I explained to my venerated mentor that I felt unwell and would have to leave. I still had to run the gauntlet of a lot of stairs and through workshops where people where hacking away at bits of rock and stuff. All with the worlds fastest nonchalent walk with my bag and my sketchbook covering my wet, red bum, and eventually reached the safety of my car. I never really liked those seat covers anyway. At home, the same thing happened again and again, until the washing machine was full of clothes, towels, bathmats etc. I should have rescued the trousers!

Andy Warhol would have dried them out, framed them and put them in a New York gallery for a few million.

 I had already phoned the doctor for advice but got the assistant who said the doctor would call me back. I then somehow left the phone off the hook, making sure that she would not be able to do so. The last attack I cannot make light of. I found found myself on the floor unable to see  or hear properly. I heard Merel's aquarium making that slurping noise it always makes when the water level is too low to reach the pump. Merel, bless her, knew what to do and called the doc, who called the ambulance. It was all a bit of a dream about martians in flourescent green clothes taking pictures off the wall and hanging up bags of fluid on the hooks and sticking pipes in me and strangling my arm with a velcro band and shouting '40/80'  until I found myself on a stretcher being propelled into the ambulance. Somerone was hitting me and shouting 'stay awake'. Merel sat in the front, Bernadet following in the car having just raced from work. Halfway to the MCA I recovered quite well and began to enjoy the ride. Sirens and screaming tyres, until a paramedic stuffed his hand down my trowsers in a most intimate manner. 'What the....' 'Just checking to see if you are still bleeding'. 'Oh, alright then.' At the MCA we crashed though doors like a scene from ER. Huge paramedics pushing the bed and holding up bags of stuff and shouting 'Denderol, 50 mils' etc, hauling people out of lifts and manhandling old ladies with rollators out of their path. I was by now fully conscious and having fun in all the excitement, especially as I managed to get Merel and Mama laughing again.  

I was now in my element. Grasping my imaginary steering wheel, I was Mark Webber, drifting round corners and getting past Vettel with daring out-braking manoevres. Eventually to a place where lots of measurements were made and it was decided that my blood pressure was getting back to normal. However, a very long piece of paper (which at first I was afraid might be the bill) said that my heart was perhaps not in order. Not that as well! I need a kidney removal that is now delayed for Dr Proton and his radiology elves, then Chemocal Ali with his concoctions, and all may now have to wait for a dodgy heart. To check if the heart problem was caused by low blood pressure, just like Merel's aquarium pump slurping, I would be attached by sensors to a machine for the night. Crisis over, it was great to see the shock on everyone's face replaced by smiles of relief. Including mine. It hit Emma the hardest because she was away with Eva for the weekend. Mama and Merel had had time to digest it all a bit. Er, digestion might be the wrong word. I dream of digestion. Anyway, I was popped into bed with masses of electrodes and wires which made it difficult to turn around, so I gave up. Bernadet came again later which was great. Then Tineke. But I was so tired by then I could not get my eyes open. Thanks to Stef I had millions of episodes of the Masterson Inheritance on my iPod to get me through the night. Which was difficult. Despite the sleeping pill, I had to contend with the fact that my door would not stay closed and my room was directly behind the nurses sitting area. It was like Central Station out there, people shouting and laughing, announcements over speakers and machines going 'ping' all night. Another problem was the toilet. I had two choices. I could go to the WC with the nurse, but she would be with me to push my trolley-load of hi-fi equipment and to make sure I did not pass out again. The alternative was the po-chair and the pee-bottle, but in private. I chose the latter. The only problem was that half the room had to go with me wherever I went. The wash bowl and the bottle were always just out of reach and I had to walk around with armfulls of spaghetti dragging the cabinet with me.




















Next morning I felt fine, but Doctor Heartperson said I would have to ride a few kilometres on the training bike to see if all was in order. Bernadet and I (now detached from the web of wires) off for another cardio, a mountain stage of the Tour de France and then home. My thanks to all the lovely caring people at the MCA. And to Merel. I owe you one. Or maybe quite a few.

Love you all
Dad.

Later: I am allowed quick showers! Heaven! First have to remove all the overlooked bits of sticky tape with metal connectors for the heart-monitor. Absolute heaven!