I was going to write a very sweary post. In fact, that post was going to be titled, “Well, fuckity fuck.” I got halfway through the post and I just lost patience with it. I want to feel angry, but I’ve had time to come down from that, and it doesn’t feel right to be all sweary when that’s not how I feel right now. But there was definitely reason to be sweary a couple days ago.
Here’s my current situation in a nutshell.
Back in the hospital. Again.
On Sunday, in addition to feeling hella nauseated, I was also just feeling cruddy with a wheezy cough and other flu-like symptoms. Early Monday morning, I woke with a raging fever and Jake and I headed back to the hospital. Long story short, I’ve come down with a pneumonia (that nagging cough likely became something bigger instead of going away) and will be in here until it starts resolving.
Monday – I was pissed and emotional. I was super depressed at the thought of being back in the hospital less than a week after leaving. Is this my life now? Just a revolving set of hospital visits in between chemo treatments? Is this what the next three months will look like? Those were my pessimistic thoughts then.
Today – I’m not completely back to my optimistic point of view – the one where I deal with my bad weeks and sail through chemo with my hair still in tact and my spirits relatively high, but I’m getting there. Hospital stays suck, plain and simple. But I know it’s the best way to keep me as healthy as possible and I obviously can’t handle this on my own, so I’m doing my best to be okay with my situation each day I continue to be in the hospital.
Don’t put it out there (the bad stuff, at least)
My sister is in town and has been visiting me in the hospital since Monday and we got to talking about the power of what you put out into the universe. I.e. If you think bad things will happen to you, then they might happen to you. If you think only good things will happen, then only good will happen to you.
I will say that for the most part, I put out good vibes even with my current situation. I really am quite positive about my prognosis so far and how very curable this is. But when I think about some of my blog posts on here, I know it doesn’t look that way. That’s because this is a place of reflection. This is a place where I recount what happened and how I felt at the time. And because of that, I think maybe I’m painting this picture of myself that isn’t as accurate as what I currently feel like.
I’ve seen it in the faces of others too. For example, an old coworker of mine (who I still love dearly and miss working with her everyday!) visited me the last time I was in the hospital. She tiptoed in like she was walking on eggshells and talked in a soothing voice with an ever-present look of concern plastered on her face. I kept telling her that I was fine! Really! But it took her being there for almost a half hour to finally SEE that I was fine. She was smiling, she was laughing with me, her demeanor changed from someone worried about a dying friend to someone who was just stopping by to say hello. I was so happy that I could change her demeanor just in the half hour she was there. That’s how I feel with most people I see in person who express concern. I get your concern, but I want to take that away from you! If you could just see how I am on a daily basis, you would also see why I have a very positive outlook.
Yes, I have my bad days, my bad weeks, my stints in the hospital, and in those moments I do experience self-pity. But on the whole, I am doing great. I still have my hair, and that’s pretty much the best thing ever. My side effects are actually quite minimal compared to others. I’m still on track with chemo. I get up. I walk. And my progress so far has been amazing.
Making the most of this situation…
So yes, I’m in the hospital again. No, it’s not ideal. But it is what it is and I’m trying to make the most of it. I’ve basically got all of the essentials here that I would have at home…knitting supplies, gel pens and coloring books, a favorite blanket, books, ipad, computer, comfy clothes, toiletries and lindor truffles (just 10 of them…not the whole box of 60). What I’m doing in here is basically what I’d be doing at home during my bad week, anyway, just with a little more intervention from nurses and doctors.
So…don’t cry for me, Argentina. The truth is I never left you. #notsurethatworksbutididntknowhowelsetoendthis