I'm recovering from surgery and 12 days in the hospital. I wish to write a long, or at least a well-done, post about my adventure (which started soon after I returned from New York). At present, though, I don't have the strength to sit at my computer long enough to do it. I've jotted parts down on paper, but putting stuff together to publish is proving too difficult yet.
Still I wanted to mention, for those not on Facebook, that I haven't abandoned your blogs apurpose. I'm just healing. And healing is a wonderful thing.
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| Early morning view from my hospital room. |
My malady drew a lot of interest from many doctors, but no one discovered definitively what it was. Some weird virus picked up in an airport on my delayed flight home, probably, or else it was an auto-immune reaction to a garden variety virus. Whatever the case, it made me, in one doctor's words, "a head scratcher." They tested for everything they could, and it was nice, I suppose, to rule out cancer and anthrax.
I really never have felt so on the brink of this life's end as I did a couple of times the past month. This likely has to do with the procedures done near and around my heart (there was a big fluid build-up throughout my body, and the heart is not happy, especially, to be squeezed by liquid). Despite it not being fun to stare death in the face, I hold a good deal of gratitude for going through it. As someone who spends many hours pondering "ultimate" things--the soul, the reasons we're here, what will happen after death, and so on--I was suddenly dealing with things on a less conceptual, much more experiential, level. My further ponderings and conclusions will no doubt weave their way into future posts: you know me.
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| Pretties from my cousins. |
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| James grew these flowers, and Kimi made the arrangement; so cheering. |
Throughout the journey, I continued spiking a fever most days. The fluid inside me made food, especially the usual things, sound totally gross. Worse than morning sickness. Then, when at last the surgery was over and the fever was disappearing, my digestive system turned on me, and I couldn't eat or keep anything inside after doing so (lovely picture; sorry). What finally made me know I was healing was being able to suck ice cubes and beginning to love the feel and taste of water again. So I kept the nurses busy refilling my styrofoam cup (may I never drink from one again) with ice, and when it melted, I dipped my plastic spoon in for dollops of water. And they refreshed me. Just as the bouquets people brought, of flowers, of themselves in kindly groups cheering me forward, of cards.
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| Another bouquet from friends. |
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| From the people at Tim's TV station. |
My mom has had way more than her share this year of hospital trips and care-giving, yet every day she smilingly gave her time to me. (Dad came to visit, too, when he could.) Timothy did mountains of work and visited me twice a day. He is the guy to have on hand in a crisis; I was reminded of this blessing again and again.
Now having spent too much time upright, I'll go grab another nap. I'm drinking
Kombucha, and eating all the healing foods possible. People have brought us much food. They're wonderful. I look forward to blogging and visiting and walking along the river again soon.
