My New Year, so far

I'm sure everyone who reads my blog (all 4 of you) have noticed my conspicuous absence for a long time.
It wasn't really by choice. Well, mostly.

On New Years Eve I started feeling ill, (and what I thought it was, it wasn't!) and over the next several days spent most of my life in bed. Caleb was a real sweetheart and completely took care of the house and kids. He even stayed home with my from church on Sunday and called in Monday so he could stay home with me.

We actually called the ambulance to come look at me on Sunday because I was running a 93.5 temperature, which is really weird for me. They said it looked like the flu. Hmmm, ok. I can get over that all on my own.
The next day, Monday, I realized I probably needed to go to the hospital (I'll spare you the details) so we called the ambulance again and they transported me. That was the Worst Ride of my Life. I swear. It was very very rough and bumpy, very cold in the back, very jostly-throw-me-around in the back on the stretcher. It's a wonder anyone ever survives that ride. I even managed to throw up all over my own face (and coat, and hair) on the way. Super. Just super.

When we got to the hospital, they almost immediately diagnosed me as having gall stones (gallbladder-itis?) so they scheduled me to have it yanked out. In the midst of all of that - which mercifully, I don't remember much of - they also found that I was in renal failure and had acute pancreatitis.

When it rains, it pours.

I remember hearing the word dialysis float past me.
I remember panicking inside.

After that, I remember waking up while the surgeon was stitching a central line into my chest....and thinking geez! couldn't they wait to wake me up until this is OVER?
Apparently I wasn't quite lucid at that point.

Recovery room. Pain. In and out. Caleb on a hospital bed next to me.

Semi-private room. More pain. Caleb still beside me.

Doctors saying my kidneys were functioning a little. Praise the Lord.

Not being able to eat or drink anything for almost an entire day. Sudden, unquenchable thirst.

Mother-and-Fathers-in-law floating through once in a while.

Finally. Ice chips. ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

A private room. Lots of CAT scans, MRIs, XRays, medicine. Not sure what all it was.

Nice nurses. Mean nurses. Rude nurses.

Three days of personal embarrassing issues. Caleb suffering silently with me.

A nurse who proclaimed : Honey, when you got a man who'll stay with you in the hospital, don't you EVAH let him go. Nevah.
As if I was planning to?

White blood cells are through the roof. No explanations. More xrays and cat scans.
Massive doses of antibiotics. Very little sleep at night.

Doctor says "we only see these numbers when we are dealing with Leukemia."
Thanks. That helped.

I stayed there from Monday through the next Thursday.
Start to give up hope of ever coming home.
Goodbye, cruel world.....

My sister from AK is at my house. I can't even spend time with her, and I haven't seen her in years. Thankfully, both my big sisters are taking care of my house and kids.

Caleb goes back to work. He has missed an entire week.

I'm finally able to start getting up and showering. Brushing my teeth. I feel like a cave troll.

Very weak.

Finally allowed to have something other than liquids.
Sweet mercy.
Everything tastes like sandpaper.
I think it's the hospital food.
Sister brings a subway sandwich.
Still tastes like sandpaper.
I've lost all my tastebuds!?

White cell count is finally close enough to normal to ask to go home.
Can't find a doctor.
Start to demand.
Finally.
They release me.

I came home Thursday afternoon. My big sisters were here through Sunday to help me get back on my feet.
I'm still weak. Can't do much.
I managed a load of laundry this morning, and that was all I did.

I missed my mom's Birthday.
I almost missed my close friend's birthday.
I missed 2 or 3 weeks of church.
That was hard.
I listened to Joel Olsteen when I was in the hospital.
He told three stories, used no Scripture, and talked about being happy.
I needed preaching.
Not story telling.

So I  made it to church Sunday morning, although I stayed home Sunday night. It was pretty difficult to sit in the straight upright pews.

I'm slowly but surely recovering. I have a follow-up on Thursday and I hope to goodness they'll take my 11 staples out, because they're driving.me.crazy.

I appreciate alllllllll the prayers that were spoken for me and the visits, cards, phone calls, texts, and everyone who helped take care of my kids.
It's a wonderful thing having people who care enough to just say a prayer, even if you can't do anything else.

The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.

I'm home.
I'm alive.
And my kidneys are functioning just fine.