(no subject)
friendslocked! a first! but I suppose I must at least attempt to be circumspect, privacy and all that, and I know none of you live right around here.
tough, these past few days. I've been taking care of a patient who's really been hitting me hard.
I watched someone die pretty horribly from what he's got, once, because they couldn't find a donor. they're looking right now, so perhaps there is hope and I need to put my natural cynicism aside, my feeling that things only rarely go the way you want them to, and trust that something will work out. because this guy? so young, and so clueless.
his boyfriend's getting a little snippy because they've run out of money and wants him to get back to work, and he's running up the credit cards bringing him food every day because the hospital food really is that bad. he wants to get back to work, too, they like him there, the owner called him up at home to compliment him once because he's doing so well for a new guy, and they went through the 150 bucks they got from his mom for Christmas pretty fast, 150 bucks! like that's some huge amount. and clearly they have no idea of what living with this disease really entails, and how if they find a transplant donor he'll be in the hospital for a month, probably, and even then work will be iffy for awhile, because he'll be at risk for infection and bleeding until his counts come back. and it might not work, and the disease might come back, that happens a lot and some people get more than one transplant, several even, and they're progressively sicker and the conditioning regimen is harder and harder on them, their bodies need so much rest and tender treatment, and they need longer to recover every time.
but he's there every night, on his little air mattress next to his bf's bed, except he wasn't the night before last because he went out, and when he finally showed up with food and clean clothes so they could hang out and watch Sunday sports and read the paper together, we compared notes and figured out he got home about the same time I got up for work. god! remember those days? pretty funny, and we regarded each other with elaborate amazement and disgust, and when he found out I lived in Winter Park he asked me if I'd been to all these fancy restaurants and clubs and I said "I haven't been anywhere since I moved here" and he said "not even PF Chang's?" I said "Oh, but they're everywhere" and he sniffed a little and said "well, true" and my patient snickered as he rolled his eyes and shrugged. hee! and now we're all three going to dinner when they get out of the hospital, big plans, because they pity me, they said so, heh. oh. my heart is breaking now.
it's too close to home. bitchy, pretty boys, all in love, that's my escape, you know?
sorry for the downer. hey! some great things do happen: Honor Bound, at Torquere Press. whee! big love and congratulations to someone who truly deserves it. you should be so proud.
I'm off to lunch and House of Flying Daggers. can't go wrong with that combo. thanks for listening, as always.
tough, these past few days. I've been taking care of a patient who's really been hitting me hard.
I watched someone die pretty horribly from what he's got, once, because they couldn't find a donor. they're looking right now, so perhaps there is hope and I need to put my natural cynicism aside, my feeling that things only rarely go the way you want them to, and trust that something will work out. because this guy? so young, and so clueless.
his boyfriend's getting a little snippy because they've run out of money and wants him to get back to work, and he's running up the credit cards bringing him food every day because the hospital food really is that bad. he wants to get back to work, too, they like him there, the owner called him up at home to compliment him once because he's doing so well for a new guy, and they went through the 150 bucks they got from his mom for Christmas pretty fast, 150 bucks! like that's some huge amount. and clearly they have no idea of what living with this disease really entails, and how if they find a transplant donor he'll be in the hospital for a month, probably, and even then work will be iffy for awhile, because he'll be at risk for infection and bleeding until his counts come back. and it might not work, and the disease might come back, that happens a lot and some people get more than one transplant, several even, and they're progressively sicker and the conditioning regimen is harder and harder on them, their bodies need so much rest and tender treatment, and they need longer to recover every time.
but he's there every night, on his little air mattress next to his bf's bed, except he wasn't the night before last because he went out, and when he finally showed up with food and clean clothes so they could hang out and watch Sunday sports and read the paper together, we compared notes and figured out he got home about the same time I got up for work. god! remember those days? pretty funny, and we regarded each other with elaborate amazement and disgust, and when he found out I lived in Winter Park he asked me if I'd been to all these fancy restaurants and clubs and I said "I haven't been anywhere since I moved here" and he said "not even PF Chang's?" I said "Oh, but they're everywhere" and he sniffed a little and said "well, true" and my patient snickered as he rolled his eyes and shrugged. hee! and now we're all three going to dinner when they get out of the hospital, big plans, because they pity me, they said so, heh. oh. my heart is breaking now.
it's too close to home. bitchy, pretty boys, all in love, that's my escape, you know?
sorry for the downer. hey! some great things do happen: Honor Bound, at Torquere Press. whee! big love and congratulations to someone who truly deserves it. you should be so proud.
I'm off to lunch and House of Flying Daggers. can't go wrong with that combo. thanks for listening, as always.