Day 25 Monday

What a difference a day makes...

Bird Watching

I woke up with the sunrise and it looked to be a beautiful morning outside. I pulled out my dad's binoculars and decided to watch the day wake up from my perch over Lake Estelle. I watched the anhinga start their day swimming and fishing, and lots of other birds get their day going too. A large osprey alighted atop a tree right by my window and spent several minutes surveying the scene. Over the course of my stay I have seen egrets and heron, gulls and osprey, and even got to watch a kingfisher for quite awhile. I also watched the otters in the lake, and on Sunday morning their are model sailboat regattas. 

I'm really glad I spent about a half an hour watching it all Monday morning--I had no idea it was my last day there.

The Day

I felt great. My blood counts were at 3.6 --a big leap--and everyone seemed to think I was improving well. Various doctor's came by to verify that news of my lip was true--the swelling was down and we did not need to biopsy it. 

Jen brought me a Chik-filet-a sandwich and waffle fries for lunch, which seemed like heaven--both a comfort food and a touch of normalcy.   

And then I heard that I was moving back to the 10th floor.

And then I was gone...

It was really sort of sad. It was not so much about the room itself, but about all the relationships. 

Over my weeks here I've really gotten to know and befriend so many of the nurses and techs. You get to know them and them you--during a time when you are going through so much. I mean--one's about to have a baby, another bought a house, some are about to move, some are about to graduate college, with some I talked movies, others books, others children,  etc.--you learn about them and who they are and become friends.  It's weird to up and leave without saying thanks for the incredible amount of work and care you gave me, and goodbye. 

I will send a card--but still--it feels weird, even sad, to just disappear. 

I'll miss them.

Back to Ten

The tenth floor is a much older floor--a floor with a bit more dated decor--back when muted pink/beiges and water color roses were in. I have a strange sort of dark/light rose-colored camo wallpaper in my much smaller room. My window looks out over the rooftops and towards a lake to the north, but everything in the room does its best to direct you away from the window.

In a holistic health sense--I am convinced environment affects mood and must affect recovery. Here it does seem a bit like the environment has more of a passive aggressive approach. In other words: you'd better get well so you are not here. 

I've Got no Strings...

One thing that is sort of liberating though is how free I am here. I don't have to pee into a jug or poop into a cup. They don't measure everything I eat and drink. No one is wearing masks (in fact my nurse had a cough). I don't have sticky tabs and heart monitor lines attached to me. I am completely off of IVs now, and only take some meds by mouth.

I am untied.

Wait

And here I am--waiting--waiting for my blood counts to rise--waiting to be sure that I don't catch a fever now that I am off of all those anitbiotics, antivirals, and antifungals.  

Waiting.

My doctor says I should be home by the end of the week--but everyone else seems to refer to "going home soon" like it could be any minute.

I'll keep you posted!