Another Hospital Trip

Well friends, I took another ER trip and once again, they could find nothing wrong.

Here’s how it played out:

3:00 PM- I’m late for a doctor’s appointment for my second surgery letter, running (as well as I can in a pair of wedges) from the Beaverton Transit Center to a clinic on First Avenue, a distance of roughly 3/4 of a mile. I arrive exhausted, winded, sweaty, with slight chest pains.

3:30 PM- Chest pains gone, replaced with arm pains. Appointment goes well.

4:00 PM- Appointment finishes. Told I should be getting my second letter in about a week. I get up and notice I’m a bit woozy.

4:03 PM- Crossing Watson I notice a pressure in my neck and shoulder that starts getting more pronounced along with a sensation of pressure in my head. Brief gray-out, feeling like I have a blockage to my brain. I sit down on a bench and call 911 because this is the first time this sensation has been so bad it almost made me pass out.

4:30 PM- Admitted to ER at Kaiser Westside in Hillsboro.

7:15 PM- After tests on blood sugar, blood gas, an EKG, a neck ultrasound, and a chest x-ray all they managed to find was a slightly elevated pulse/ blood pressure and a lymph node in the left side of my neck that was described as “prominent” and “reactive.” Rule out heart attack, stroke, diabetes, thrombus, and a shit ton of other things.

8:15 PM- Dinner, then a long ride home.

This is getting ridiculous. I keep having very real symptoms that keep getting worse, and they never find anything!

File That Under “Weird,” Part 2

My cat goes nuts whenever he hears a West Country accent.

I noticed a while ago that whenever I watch clips from “Time Team”  on YouTube, he starts walking around and yowling.  At first I thought it was Tony Robinson’s voice for some reason that he was mistaking for someone else, but then I had a thought: what if it’s Phil Harding’s voice?

Phil Harding, one of the Time Team archaeologists, has a very distinct West Country accent (Wiltshire, apparently).

I played another clip of a Somerset accent, which is another West Country dialect,  and my cat went straight to the door of the room, yowling as if he expected someone to come in.

Incidentally, John probably had a  Somerset accent in his youth that he later gave up for a standard RP accent if my memories are correct.

On a hunch, I tried petting my cat and speaking to him in the best West Country accent I could manage, addressing him as “puss,” and he calmed down immediately.  He’s now curled up next to me perfectly calm.

I was overdue for some weirdness.  Not sure what to make of this; I don’t remember having a cat in that life.  PKD was a cat person but I can’t imagine John would have been, since he was a bit more rugged.  Then again, you never know.


Last night, I had a dream that was largely nonsensical, but there was one element that stands out.

In the dream, my fiance said the word “army” with a heavy Somerset accent (maybe he was trying to talk like a pirate?).  Just hearing the word “army” said that way triggered something undoubtedly past-life related within me and soured my mood.  It left me feeling unpleasant even after I had woken up.

What else?  I seem to remember there was also a moment going to one of those small, mid-century grocery stores with tall glass fronts that were still common in my childhood (but seem to be vanishing now that everything’s gone to big-box retail).  The usual colorful kiddie rides and candy vending machines were out front.  I wonder if that means anything?  It was a lot like the Piggly-Wiggly in Goose Creek, SC that we would shop at if we were down that way when I was young.

Beyond that, the dream made no sense whatsoever and I’m still in a hazy, dreamlike state (probably because I took something for anxiety right before bed…  I hate what those pills do to me though so I rarely take them).

Deeper and Deeper We Go…

I was doing some quick research on medieval Shrewsbury this morning before heading out to class.

Lo and behold, I discovered that one of the family names of the noble houses in the area was Harris.

I don’t know if John was a blood relation to them or not; it could be too that there was a fictive relation between the two families that John believed.

I don’t know if the monk whose life I remember was from the House of Harris, but it’s a distinct possibility.

But what would really be interesting is if I could establish a blood relation between the warrior-turned monk and the farmboy-turned soldier, and things would get to a new level of weirdness if I could connect both of them to me by blood relation.