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Hospital stay #11

I knew it was coming.

I've been here for about 25 hours now. My TSH higher than 305, free T4 .07 (so basically, I don't have any), and my heart is working too hard to keep my body going without help. I've severely anemic. Oxygen saturation is puzzling - it drops to a low number but then rebounds, as though saying, "So she stops breathing randomly. Huh. But she is NOT dying like this. Nope. Well, maybe... well, nope, never mind." So it will go from nothing much to 96 (within normal limits) within a minute. No one can explain it. All they know is that I'm fighting. My body is fighting harder than I can comprehend. I'm hooked to every monitor there is, watching the outside world, sleeping randomly and without warning (never well at night, but always throughout the day), and counseling the nurses who are awake with me as they fight through their rough marriages, their exhaustion, their sadness about missing their kids. I'd rather be kind and helpful than isolate in this isolating place. There isn't time to push the world away, not now. And it's not just some full-of-it sense of "you're strong!" or "you're doing the right thing by helping others." It's not like that. It's more that while I'm still here, and when my brain has those waking moments to be kind - it wants to be kind. Why should my death be more important than someone else's suffering? We all suffer. Why not choose to be kind if we still can be?

So I'll be here, smiling with nurses, asking questions to every doctor, trying to breathe and type, and pretending like it's all going to be okay, 1500 mcg of IV Synthroid and a lot of other meds later. It won't be, not ultimately, but if I can tell my brain that it will be, maybe I can buy more time.

Comments

oneonthefence
Sep. 28th, 2014 02:15 am (UTC)
<3 to you, too. We just came home today. :)