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| Photo by Feans; https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/legalcode |
I wish I could say that a Tolkien-like adventure has kept me from writing for over two weeks. Unless you count a few hallucinations from medication or shock, it was just a run-of-the-mill hospital stay that nearly killed me.
Of course I am embellishing somewhat, but this was a tough one. It started with severe back pain and difficulty breathing. I honestly thought that the back pain was from recent exercise that encumbered my breathing. But after waking up in the middle of the night on January 20 almost suffocating, I listened to my dear wife and asked my Pastor to take me to the Emergency Room. The only way to get oxygen was two quick inhalations followed by two short breaths out, a process a scary as it sounds.
That wouldn’t be as bad as it sounded if it had stopped there, but more excitement was to be found. A couple days later I had a broncoscopy (checks my lungs for infection, etc.), immediately followed by a CT scan, also of the lungs. This unfortunate duo combined to send me into shock or something like that, which thanks only to the lack of a room – so I’ve heard—kept me from entering Intensive Care. It was serious enough that the providers called Christi and told her about ICU, no imagination required, and serious to give me some major concern through the normally mellow feelings of morphine.
This wasn’t how I expected my new birthday to play out. Jan 22. was the first “birthday” of the new me, the one after which was supposed to be the normal me. Not too much normal about a hospital stay, unless you prefer that kind of thing. Not me. This was actually a week of tree birthdays: my transplant on Jan. 22, Abrie’s on January 28 (we’d already had the party a couple weeks early, and then my Dad’s on January 29. There was still cause to celebrate when I was finally discharged last week.
Seems that I had yet another lung infection, this time brought on by the bacterium MRSA. I brought home with me a bag of antibiotic IVs for homework, but that’s much better than staying in-patient.
I take five IVs per day, plus a short-ton of medication and the occasional platelet or whole blood infusion. Overall, I’m much better though my eyes remain a challenge. I’ve been ordered to not return to work until I’m healthy, which is the right answer from those who care about me.
So, two hospital stays in as many months, both a result of lung infections. Three different things ailing my eyes. This goes beyond frustrating. How does one ever recover when new symptoms always are emerging?
With a lot of patience and trust, I suppose. With focus on His presence rather than answers. I wish I had better advise after almost sixteen months of this, but the reality is that turning to Jesus, each and every time, is all that makes sense.