Winter is over.

Sometimes I cannot write about my hospital experiences as I go through them.  Writing is a way to connect with my emotions and express myself.  Sometimes I choose not to embrace what I'm feeling. Sometimes it is better for me to keep my feelings at bay so I do not write.

I came home from the hospital today.  I have spent 54 days at UT medical center this year, beginning January 21.  I was released twice only to return again. The dates are a blur to me. The first time I came home was after 3 weeks of antibiotics.  I responded well and felt better then when I was admitted but still not great.  Soon after being home  I started running a fever, I returned to UT two days later.  A few more weeks of antibiotics and I was released to come home on Saturday, March 8th.

 I remember the date because it was important to me to be home for my son's 14th birthday which was on the 10th.  Unfortunately I was home for less then 24 hours.  I had a fever through out the night  and my family tells me I was  restless in my sleep, holding random conversations that were full of angst and irritation.

 I awoke the next morning feeling hopeless and full of despair.  Morbid thoughts plagued my mind.  I felt defeated;  all my coping mechanisms were gone. I was anxious beyond anything I have ever felt before.  The fight for my well being had become more mental then physical.  I was admitted to the  ICU to desensitize (again) to the antibiotics my body needed.  I was also given some anti-anxiety medicine that helped calm me but I still felt miserable.

 From my vantage point now I can tell you that I was having a reaction to a combination of very strong drugs that had been given to me.  I was not loosing my mind. After two nights in ICU I was moved back to the ninth floor; back to familiar faces that I trust to care for me.  Once again they have nursed me back to life.  (Pun intended.)  I thank God for good medical care.

So now on this third day of spring I celebrate coming home.  Winter is over, a new season has begun.