Saturday, June 27, 2009
I keep coming back to blogs. For creative writing, for journaling
, for the posting of random and potentially, but unlikely, useful information. I think I may just be a blog addict.
And now ... I will pull an FBJ
, and whine about absolutely everything that is bugging me this week.
Let's start this off by admitting that almost everything I'm going to whine about is entirely my own fault. But you may feel sorry for me if you like.
Two and a half weeks ago, I knew I was getting sick. It started with earaches and swelling all around my right ear. I developed a severe staph infection on the skin of my face. It moved to blocked sinuses, and soon progressed to a throat infection. At this point, honestly, the only thing that was NOT my fault, was the staph infection. I get those, thanks to a pair of skin conditions I get to live with.
The ears, the throat, the sinuses ... they can all be linked to allergy non-management, and the fact I started smoking again last year (dumbass
I took three days off of work because I could not deal with public with my face in the shape it was. Once the infection was gone, I went back to work.
And then my lungs just decided they had enough with the smoking again, and even though I tried to fight it off for three days, on Friday I went into the hospital and was admitted for 5 days.
were 86%, nudging up to 88% with an oxygen tube in. This is your PSA
people! I'm only 33, and I damn near died. Stop smoking before it's too late!
I was released on Wednesday. I have to take large doses of prednisone
for the next three weeks, and a strong antibiotic for another 4 days, yet. My blood sugar ranges around 8.8 to 16.5. But I'm not a diabetic, so I really don't know what that means. The doctor says it is part and parcel of the steroid package. I just know that I wander around in a hell of a brain fog every day now, and I can't sleep.
And eating. OH MY GOD. I'm eating I can get my grubby hands on. It's not funny. My husband looks at me like I'm going to explode any minute. Hell, I feel like I'm going to explode any minute, and yet I'm sitting here trying to think of what I want to eat.
And I can't poop.
Kris - 8:50 p.m.