Home again finally!!

Yesterday afternoon, I finally got released from the hospital. They had one medication that had to be administered for 14 days, which is why I had to stay in a little longer than originally estimated. What a fun time that was! For a few days there, they moved me to another floor because a bacteria was growing on my petri dish that could have meant that I had tuberculosis. Fortunately, a couple of days later, it was clear that I DID NOT have it and they moved me back to the previous floor. Phew!

Aside from that, it was pretty much two weeks of not being able to get enough rest and eating terrible food. How amazing that when you need to heal up the most, they take away the two biggest ways to help your body--rest and nutrition. I wish there was a way to select an organic option for the food, even if I had to pay extra for it. Oh well, I'm home now, and it feels great. It was nice just to wake up next to Ralph again. :-)

Back in the hospital again

On June 11th, I had a low-grade fever again, and the docs decided to take me back into the hospital. It's not as bad as it sounds, but I'm still not home yet (and I won't be) for a few more days still. They are treating me for one fungal infection and one bacterial infection. Most of the meds are IV administered, which is why I need to stay here for now. They anticipate that I'll be out on Friday (the 22nd). Fingers crossed.

By the way, remember that field image that I typed about earlier? I finished the sketch of it and here it is. It's still not entirely the way that I want it to look, but at least you all can see an idea of what I want to be producing--and the closest thing that I feel I have produced that is "my voice."

I don't like breakfast in bed

I'm not sure why there seems to be this memory or idea in my head that breakfast in bed is some sort of special treatment or luxury, but after having just spent the last four days getting breakfast in bed in the hospital, I have to say, I'm not that keen on it.

Saturday, when I woke, it hurt to take deep breaths. Fearing that it was a clot that had broken loose and gone to my lungs, I called in. They took me in and ran ALL SORTS of tests, including a broncoscopy (not the scary procedure I described in the previous post--it was the same thing that I had done in October of last year). They switched up some of my meds and didn't give me my next dose of chemo. They seem pretty certain that it is a fungal infection, and it wasn't a clot (although, they explained that it would have presented itself the same way). So, now we wait to see what grows from the samples they obtained. In the meantime, I am able to be home again, which is nice. Really, hospital food--do they really think that stuff is at all good for you??

When it gets hard, a memory takes me through.

That whole thing with the potential outcome of that procedure has seriously scared the bageebies out of me. I think I've made it pretty clear to those who would have to make the decision, but I prefer a DNR (do not resuscitate). I don't want to live by machine. So, that could have easily been the end of the road for this girl. Granted, the procedure doesn't look like it's going to happen now (thank GOD), but just the possibility that this current situation could get worse really freaks me out. I'm holding onto my fight with the hope and belief--however small it feels sometimes--that I am GOING to get better. That some day, I can look back on these days and give myself the comfort of knowing that it has passed.

There is one image that I'm holding onto, and it's really been the only thing that makes me believe. By now, I'm sure that you know that I have a lot of dreams (or some would say that I just remember more of them than most people). When I was rediagnosed in 2005 (before the most recent transplant), I was having a hard time moving forward mentally. I remember praying for some sign so that I would know or have some idea how it would all go over. I don't remember if that was that night or a few nights later, but I had a dream in which Ralph and I were walking, holding hands. We were, sort of, window shopping in a mall. As we turned a corner, I saw that I was 5 months pregnant. It felt so real. I woke up crying and happy. That image, that future memory, that sense of happiness is what I hold onto. When everything seems like such a struggle, that's what gets me up, makes me eat when I'm not hungry, makes me keep trying to get stronger daily.