This is me years ago. I have a six pack and a block missing upstairs.
After 15 days of the greatest fun I could ever imagine, I’m home from my vacation in the hospital. I have the deepest Tobra tan ever on my kidneys. Too bad they don’t show.
I’m surprised I survived this jaunt. I am, really. When my multi-resistant bacteria fire up, they do a number on me. And my bonus of premature appendix surgery, puppet hands, two blood clots and medium-well-done kidneys made the stay memorable.
And then there’s the prize I won behind door number 3: a big piece of plastic implanted in my chest and jugular.
Is it too late to trade it in for the cash? Why do they bother to color it? Am I supposed to feel better about it because I know it’s purple? Why can’t I have one in Home Depot orange?
I can’t say I’m in great shape today, or that we knocked the bugs down like we’ve done in the past. I feel discombobulated and am still coughing up more than I normally do after two weeks of go-go juice. I’m doing my best to stay optimistic but I wouldn’t be surprised if I make a return visit soon.
Work today ≠ Fun.
This is me now. Hey, somebody give me a hand here. I am missing blocks thanks to my crazy pal, CF.
Back in the day, hospitalizations were mellow events. The Doctor popped in for five minutes to make sure I was alive, and eventually kicked me loose to finish IVs on my own. We didn’t take blood or worry about my kidney function. I lifted weights and went about life.
When I needed to remove my PICC, I tied it to my dog’s tail, took a deep breath, and tossed a ball. Out with the line; back with the ball. Thanks, Nurse Chocolate Labrador. She was wired to assist.
Now hospitalizations are advanced Mensa-level problems straight from an episode of Star Trek. At some point, even Capt. Kirk would give up on me – too complex to solve.
The day the hospital doctor discharged me, he said he told his team that as long as he started his day with me, it was a good day.
Is that because I’m such a joy at 9 in morning – doubtful – or because I am so screwed up, he felt better about his day ahead and life? I didn’t ask. I was happy he released me.
Thank you for all of the comments and best wishes. As always, they made a difference, and I read each one twice – because I’m dimwitted and must.
Stay simple to solve.
The Unknown Cystic 
Glad you’re home : )
Thank you, Stina. I am too, I think. I’m not sure.
spoke would never give up on you. It’s just not logical. Welcome home.
Amy,
I read your comment and I was thinking: “Who is spoke?” Then it hit me and I couldn’t stop laughing. You meant, Spock. Oh, you cracked me up. Thanks for that. I will forever think of Spock as Spoke now. You ROCK!
UC
Stupid autocorrect. I don’t believe for a second that Steve Jobs doesn’t know who Spock is! Glad you got a laugh, though.
I was still cracking up about it today. I don’t know what you used to write it, but my iPad has the worst auto correct ever. But yours is close. 🙂
Peaceful things, Jenga Man!
Thank you, Josh.
So glad to hear that you’re home (sweet home).
Thank you, Lizi.
YAY! Hooray! I was just going to post on here earlier today that you were killing me keeping me in suspense wondering if the parking garage had indeed crushed you. I’m so glad it didn’t.
Keeping my fingers crossed that it is a helluva of a loooong time before you see that place again.
Love,
Liz
CF wife
Liz,
The spirit of the hospital released me. She knows I’ll be back. I’m still messed up. Not sure what is up or down. I can’t explain it. Having a hard time adjusting and staying positive.
Now that I’m plug and play, at least I won’t need a PICC next time. Or an IV to get me started. One silver lining.
Best to you and Chris,
UC
Whew — glad that visit is OVER! Here’s hoping the kidneys come back to baseline and you get some much-needed rest.
Mal,
Thank you. My blood test on Thursday showed them rebounding but not back to baseline. Hopefully by next week, they will return to normal.
Best to you,
UC