22/04/2025
Last Night in This Room
This is it. One last night in this hospital room — and I’ve been told I can go home tomorrow if I feel ready.
Well… I’m ready.
Photo 1: Me in my favorite jungle pajamas, post-walk, eyes a bit tired but grounded. One last hospital selfie. Pajamas: comfy. Mood: cautiously optimistic.
Photo 2: My hospital room with a view. This space saw tears, t***s, tea rituals, and triumphs. Grateful, but I won’t miss it.
These last few days have been all about getting my bowels to wake up, while my nervous system spiraled from days of almost no sleep. Last night pushed me to the brink:
• IV site #4 infiltrated
• That’s 3 infiltrations and 1 thrombosed site total
• Took 3 sticks to get a new line — I screamed
• Phlebotomy needed repeat labs but couldn’t find a vein anywhere — not in arms, hands, wrists — I finally sobbed and yelled, “Stop. I can’t take this anymore.”
This morning, I woke up with that familiar itchy-all-over feeling opioids give me. As the day wore on, a classic MCAS flare took hold — maculopapular rash on my chest, shoulders, back (and I suspect my scalp too).
It’s a storm: surgery, stress, malnutrition, candida overgrowth, and cumulative inflammation. Thank you, Nystatin, for easing the cotton mouth.
Despite that, today I started eating orally — no nausea meds, no IV nutrition. We knew if I couldn’t keep it down, a central line was next.
But guess what?
I kept my food down. Still a little gassy, still some gut grumbling, but no vomiting. My PCA pump is discontinued. I walked the stairs. I passed the test.
I’m going home.
Tomorrow is the day.
Cue the tears. Cue the t***s. Cue the healing.