Digging up the Down-Low
Well, My mom came and picked me up Monday night and took me to the hospital in Casper. I was horribly dehydrated because my tonsils were swollen to the point where I could hardly breathe, much less swallow. They spent upwards of 45 minutes trying to get an IV in me, as all my veins were severely deflated or collapsed. I got stabbed with a needle 6 times before they got one, even after digging around with the needle already in my arm. They had to use a needle so small it was their standard for infants. Anyway, they got me hooked up to an IV, took a bunch of blood, gave me some Morphine for the pain, and then did a cat-scan on my neck and nasal passage. My nasal passage was completely blocked by mucous - caused by some sort of severe sinus infection, and my tonsils were swollen to the point that they were touching and constricted my airway to the size of a pen tip. So they admitted me, debated taking me to ICU and intubating my throat if the steriods recently injected in me didn't take the swelling down within 10 minutes. The following two days was sort of a blur. Anyway, the decisive evidence after-the-fact is that I have some strange strain of Mono (strange because all three times that I've been tested for it, I've tested negative) a bad sinus infection, and a micoplasma pneumonia agent somewhere in my chest. I was released from the hospital after appx. 40 hours' stay on Wednesday, December 21.
Aaand, that's the 4-1-1 on how I actually, no exaggerations, almost died. It seems like a foreign idea. I didn't feel like I was dying. I felt like death sounded better than the severe pain at the time, but I didn't feel as though I was "slipping away." The doctor's worried looks and my mother's teared eyes said otherwise, of course, but whatever. Anyway, the following is a little melo-drama about my first day back from the hospital. Enjoy, or don't. And parts of it may seem...well, crude, for lack of a better word, but if they do, they're probably just me being cynical and humorous. I know it's a weird story, but I've a strange liking for it. Anyway, off to bed and whatnot with me. Goodbye.
"It's my first day home from the hospital. Not only am I now able to breathe period, I seem to be able
to inhale through my nose, something I've almost forgotten how to do. With this comes the ability to
taste and smell...nothing I can say that I've terribly missed - mostly just because it's not something
I've really been thinking about. I go into the bathroom to take a shower - wash the hospital off of
me. I'm standing naked in front of a half-length mirror now. "Not bad," I'm thinking to myself. I have
to wonder if something is terribly wrong with me for doing so, since I'm mostly admiring the weight I've
shed from being sick - but maybe I'm just looking at the bright side? It's more than that though. My
skin is mostly clear - especially pallid of course - but clear and smooth-looking. My breasts seem to be
mocking me with their perkyness. They seem to say, "Cheer up, dollie. You've not worn a bra in over a
week and we're still holding our heads up." I climb under the flow of water. I've been in and out of hospitals for a week now and haven't had the ability for a number of reasons to take a proper shower and the first thing I think to do is shave my legs. Am I vain? No, I don't think it's that, even if that is an
irrelevant fact. I can't seem to explain anything, even myself, anymore. I run shampoo through my wirey
hair, and pull about a third of it completely out effortlessly. That's ok. I've been losing a lot of
hair lately. When I'm finished, though the water seemed chilled on my flesh, all 3 mirrors and the windows
have a thick fog on them, almost as if to spite me. My skin feels raw - nothing a little lotion won't
fix I'm sure. I've come to 3 conclusive announcements on my life. 1. I'm sick and tired of being sick
and tired. 2. I'm so lonely here. 3. I've forgotten everything that ever meant something real."
((if the indents in this are a little strange it's just because notepad is a piece of shit and wouldn't c/p right. sorry. love you guys!))
Aaand, that's the 4-1-1 on how I actually, no exaggerations, almost died. It seems like a foreign idea. I didn't feel like I was dying. I felt like death sounded better than the severe pain at the time, but I didn't feel as though I was "slipping away." The doctor's worried looks and my mother's teared eyes said otherwise, of course, but whatever. Anyway, the following is a little melo-drama about my first day back from the hospital. Enjoy, or don't. And parts of it may seem...well, crude, for lack of a better word, but if they do, they're probably just me being cynical and humorous. I know it's a weird story, but I've a strange liking for it. Anyway, off to bed and whatnot with me. Goodbye.
"It's my first day home from the hospital. Not only am I now able to breathe period, I seem to be able
to inhale through my nose, something I've almost forgotten how to do. With this comes the ability to
taste and smell...nothing I can say that I've terribly missed - mostly just because it's not something
I've really been thinking about. I go into the bathroom to take a shower - wash the hospital off of
me. I'm standing naked in front of a half-length mirror now. "Not bad," I'm thinking to myself. I have
to wonder if something is terribly wrong with me for doing so, since I'm mostly admiring the weight I've
shed from being sick - but maybe I'm just looking at the bright side? It's more than that though. My
skin is mostly clear - especially pallid of course - but clear and smooth-looking. My breasts seem to be
mocking me with their perkyness. They seem to say, "Cheer up, dollie. You've not worn a bra in over a
week and we're still holding our heads up." I climb under the flow of water. I've been in and out of hospitals for a week now and haven't had the ability for a number of reasons to take a proper shower and the first thing I think to do is shave my legs. Am I vain? No, I don't think it's that, even if that is an
irrelevant fact. I can't seem to explain anything, even myself, anymore. I run shampoo through my wirey
hair, and pull about a third of it completely out effortlessly. That's ok. I've been losing a lot of
hair lately. When I'm finished, though the water seemed chilled on my flesh, all 3 mirrors and the windows
have a thick fog on them, almost as if to spite me. My skin feels raw - nothing a little lotion won't
fix I'm sure. I've come to 3 conclusive announcements on my life. 1. I'm sick and tired of being sick
and tired. 2. I'm so lonely here. 3. I've forgotten everything that ever meant something real."
((if the indents in this are a little strange it's just because notepad is a piece of shit and wouldn't c/p right. sorry. love you guys!))