I started the blog to tell some stories, reach out to others and hopefully entertain while providing some useful information on healing and coping. I went into the hospital shortly after, and I dropped the blog. I didn’t feel like writing it. And I figured the only people reading it were the ones I had corralled. Then I came home and found out that PJ, in many ways my doppleganger, had been reading it. I found out that there were others, too.
So now I can’t drop it. I don’t want to write a succession of posts reading, this thing happened, that thing happened, WTF, why is any of this happening. The idea is to send out good, not bad energy. Well my last post didn’t send out good energy, but it brought a lot of good energy in. (Thanks, everyone, it really helps.) I guess I’ll just keep telling it like it is, and tell you I’m trying to get back in touch with all the things that helped me cope up to here. I think I’ll start by remembering to breathe.
The days have blurred together, but here are a few things that have been happening. It took a few days and a parade of doctors to figure out what to do about the pneunemonia. It’s probably fungal, because the past few times I’ve come in here, I get the fungal ball on my lung. The pulmonary people came in, listened to my chest and suggested a bronchioscopy, which involves putting a tube down your throat. They also said a Video Assisted Thoracic Surgery, or VATs, would provide the information on whether this is fungal or bacterial. I had already had a VATS years ago, and it involves a long, painful recovery, so I nixed that option. The bronchioscopy went away by itself.
Next the ID (infectious disease) people weighed in. I wanted to talk to Dr. Marty, my favorite ID doctor, who’s followed me from the beginning and who makes me laugh. I found out he was away until tomorrow (as are many of the doctors, like usual around major holidays). They said he’s not on service, but he knows of my situation and will stop by.
They should really find a better way than having a parade of doctors poke and probe and float their theories on the patient. I love having all this knowledge on my side, but I want them to share their ideas with my doctor, who will present me with a plan. My “visitors” wore me down. It was irrational to cry over Dr. Marty’s absence, but it was the last straw. I burst into tears, feeling like a little kid.
I had a trainee nurse that day who did everything by the book. I asked her for an Ativan. “Are you just generally anxious or is it something specific?” she asked sweetly. Homicidal rage time. DON’T MAKE ME EXPLAIN! I thought. NOBODY HERE MAKES PATIENTS EXPLAIN WHY THEY WANT AN ATIVAN! In reality, I told her it was generalized anxiety, and I got the Ativan.
Anyway, there is a plan. In the morning I'll get platelets, followed by a CT-scan biopsy to get a sample of the matter on my lung.
In the meantime, I got a PICC line inserted in my left arm and went down to have it x-rayed to see if it was in the right place. It needed to be tugged down a few more inches, and when the nurse did it, I saw that there was a cut on my arm where some of the tubing enters. I told her I had low platelets but she said she didn't need to apply extra pressure. When I returned to x-ray, my sweatshirt and shirt were soaked with blood. I was pushed quickly back upstairs in my wheelchair, and the bleeding stopped after the nurse applied pressure.
Then I almost killed my MacBook. I had left it on top of the mini fridge, only to discover that (duh) it’s not a good place for a computer, due to condensation. When I picked it up, the bottom was wet, and it wouldn’t start.
I’m not an electronics enthusiast. My view ranges from necessity that I must put up with, to downright maddening piece of junk that will only cause me trouble. But I love this little Mac. (No, they didn’t pay me to write this.) I fell in love with its sleek simple design and the light touch of the keyboard. I rescued mine by wiping it with a white towel and re-charging it. Suddenly it came to life! The Mac was saved! So I guess there was something good to report after all. See, I'm trying to be more positive. I'll work on it some more tomorrow.
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