I'll get to my procrastination sometime soon, maybe, but
I look at what everyone else is going through, at a future that makes 1984 look good, and wonder...
I wonder just how any of what happens to me matters. What's happening after the following rant.
This is not my world. I mean, really. It isn't. Nearly everything that I was brought up to value... meaningless. Parents afraid to hug their children, certainly don't touch anybody else - especially if it's a work environment, 75% of the people saying they would willingly submit to random searches of themselves, their homes, cars, etc. to help fight terrorism--but first, check anyone who even looks like they might be of "Arab" descent (if you have nothing to hide, why should it matter if you're violated, we already put up with it for airplanes... buses, trains, car checkpoints should be expected), "warrentless" searches, losing all rights if someone is declared to be a "potential" terrorist, shoot to kill first...
No, this is not my world. I've slipped through some wormhole and I'm trapped in a Steven King novel.
And now I am sitting in a hospital bed... again... not wanting to write this down because
To use the old Phil Ochs' refrain "It really wouldn't interest anybody outside a close circle of friends..."
I still don't have any answers
and, as I said, I'm back in the f'ing hospital, lungs filling with crud, body bloated up to the tune of a lb. an hour and keeping that barely under control (and there's really nothing they can do about it), I can't sleep (you can't even get a sleeping pill without orders signed in triplicate and waivers of responsibility)
And, if it weren't for the fact that I have Medicare as primary insurance due to being disabled, and a hugely expensive health insurance program as secondary, I would be in the wonderful position of deciding how to die... quickly, so that my children would't go hungry and without a place to live.
THERE ARE NO ANSWERS....
And the doctor who did the biopsy won't say a thing other than "I removed a tumor from [his] throat, there are 2 stitches, and I'll have more information when this [special] biopsy comes back in 6-8 days..."
Did he even look at the thing on my neck that started all this? NO, not even a biopsy while he had me out for over 90 minutes.
This gives me the same good, warm and fuzzy feeling Custer must have had at the Little Bighorn...
I MEAN
I woke up, immediately knew it was MUCH longer than I expected... with a slightly sore throat...
Surprised them (no, I didn't knock the anesthesiologist out this time), asked for some ice, decided I wasn't groggy or nauseated and wanted to get out of there. They held me for a little while, until IAmCompubear could get in, tell me what the "doc" had said (He never actually talked to me!) and I decided I was hungry.
I didn't feel bad, just a little upset when I found out that even my PCP couldn't get anything else out of him, So got food, went to the hotel, slept a little while, read a little while, ended up having dinner with some friends...I was a little weak, but I had been for a while and that really was expected, anyway.
Went back to the hotel... tried to sleep, but by midnight I was coughing and choking and couldn't sleep. The Bear was exhausted, and I really didn't want to wake her. Read, coughed, tried to sleep (failed), played a bit on the computer, repeat.. When she woke up, I was finally exhausted to the point I found a way to prop pillows up so I could sleep a little. She was good enough to bring me up something to eat, and then we both slept a while.
We overslept a little, but managed to get it together and out about 30 minutes later than we expected. I was a bit groggy, coughing a bit, but could eat... and I hurt more than I did the day before, but again that's usually expected.
We were supposed to meet Rex at noon, and then ended up picking him up, stopping for a quick lunch, and taking him to his appointment. It was raining so hard, we decided to wait for him to take him home. I (mostly) slept, sitting up, read a little... took him home. But, by then I was feeling crappy. So, since we were near our doctor anyway, we did a walk-in. He saw me VERY quickly, looked at me, did an inhalation treatment, put me back on the antibiotics I had been told by the OTHER doctor to discontinue.
We picked up Box_of_Chatter as ARainbowCat had found a way to stay over with friends for an extra 2 days. We ended up at McD's because that's where the kids wanted to go. By the time I got there, I was shivering so badly I had trouble holding food. Robert wrapped his coat around me (it was cold in there, thank you, Robert!) and I felt a little better by the time we left... but the Bear was tired and somehow ended up going in a big circle for 20 mins or so before we got to the freeway.
I WAS WRONG. OK. I ADMIT IT!
She tried to convince me to go to the ER up where we were, but I wanted to go home. Sleep in my own bed. Figured the shakes were over. I WAS WRONG!
9:30 PM I was running a 104.5F temp. The Bear called our PCP. Go to the ER, damn, I was 95 miles and exhaustion from him. Go anyway. Penrose... not Memorial again where I was LOST last time...
That's where I am now. Pneumonia.
In 6 hours since my Dr. checked my blood, my white blood cells had gone from normal to moderately high. Blood sugar from 170 to 360... The only saving grace is that my PCP wasn't personally going to be available from noon Friday until Monday... But he would at least have been able to check up on me Friday.
In the meantime, I started swelling up again... even with diuretics I'm just about keeping even.
I still don't have ANY idea what's wrong, and don't like the idea of a tumor that the doctor won't talk about and was so concerned about that he didn't even bother with the growth in my lymph node. And, 20 hours or so after the antibiotic (IV) is given, BOOM, blood sugar spikes, lungs get crap in them, etc.
NOW WHAT?
sigh... I am REALLY tired of this...