Hospital stay number...What was that one?

I got home from the hospital about five hours ago. I went in on Tuesday afternoon because I couldn't hold anything down and I felt very lethargic. I was pushing a low grade fever of 99.7, and we (my doctors, myself, and John) were concerned that I had an infection from my port. Thank goodness that wasn't it... but with all the tests and samples they took, I was hoping they'd find something so I wouldn't be left in the dark. And yet all the tests came back normal and it looked like everything was fine.

I had to have two IVs put in while I was there. First was in the crook of my arm; it ended up bending and not working anymore. So then they stuck me in the left wrist. I hate IVs. I cry every time. My anxiety goes through the roof, it's a wonder I don't freak out when my nurse changes my port needle.

Among the tests they did were urine and stool samples, x-rays, and blood tests. The x-rays showed a lot of air in my stomach, but no perforations or obstructions. Later they took a second stool culture to test further for C. Diff, but instead of finding that, they found a bunch of white blood cells working to protect me. The doctors just said it was some kind of infection and gave me some antibiotics.

I discussed a G-tube with my PCM and GI doctor again, but after some convincing they apparently changed my mind about it. But then we discussed an EG procedure, and that was done the next day. I was put under and they went down my throat with a tube and camera to look at my gross-ness. After it was done and I was awake, they told me they saw at least half a liter of bile just sitting in my stomach. Didn't really find much else. Picture time! Gross, huh?

They also mentioned superior mesenteric artery syndrome. So I'm not sure what's going to happen with that.

During my stay everything was nice. The fifth floor of Evans has been remodeled, and it looks even better than the maternity ward. The staff was super awesome, and most of them recognized me and remembered me from when I was there last year. I was given meds for pain, nausea, and my antibiotics. They did more blood draws but it was from my port. I was happy with that.

Hospice and palliative care was discussed yet again. I wouldn't mind help but I don't want to have to deal with people I barely know who are going to take care of me. I also don't want to lose my HH nurse, because I trust her more than anyone to change my dressing and needle. I don't know.

The hospital Chaplain came to see me on the second day I was there. He was wearing a robe, like a monk, and balding. And he was extremely quiet, I had to ask him to repeat himself a lot. He didn't really help me with my spiritual walk, but he did pray with me and that provided some comfort...

I am so glad to be home. I look back and I think, "Holy crap. I was once hospitalized for a month, how did I not go insane?!" because these past few days have been pretty intense for my emotions. Today, right before I was discharged, I threw up. I threw up the breakfast I had this morning, which was mostly hash browns. That hurt so bad. The rest was bile, of course. I was afraid they were going to keep me another night, but they didn't. I guess that's the beauty of having a disease no one really knows about.

As of now we're just watching how I do, I guess. I see Dr. McNally, my GI doctor, again on Tuesday. I almost don't want to go because he always tells me I'm strong and even though I know he means well, I feel like he feels sorry for me, and I hate that. He's very nice, and very good at what he does, but for me to be the patient to stump him... it's pretty frustrating.

I'm off to play some more Animal Crossing now.