All that heel clicking finally worked.

Truly, there is no place like home.

I got released from the hospital/prison today at 2pm. After a 2 hour stop to the infectious disease doctor's office (doesn't that sound sexy? cuz it is) where they prepped me on the ins and outs of dosing myself with IV antibiotics 3 times a day for the next 2 weeks and where I filled out a mountain of paperwork all while writhing in pain caused by a waaaaaaaaaaay overdue date with my pain pills, and then picking up The Geej at school (GOD it was good to see that little turkey) and then to Walgreen's to drop off my prescriptions, I finally FINALLY arrived at my humble abode at about 5pm this afternoon.

And it's a damn good thing, too. I had a moment yesterday while trudging up and down the hall on one of my obligatory 6 "walks" a day, when I realized that I was seriously in danger of coming unraveled. My body was so foriegn to me...so weak and frail. My days had become so unbearably monotonous that it was crushing me from the inside out. The constant tick tick tick tick of the loud wall clock than hung opposite my bed was a torturous reminder of how slowly time was actually going by. I had lost the meaning of the word "privacy" and was so sick of people telling me to keep my spirits up, I was pretty sure I'd punch the next poor fool who said it to me. They'd told me that they were going to "try" to get me out of there on Friday (today), but I dare not believe it because I'd been rooked so many times by my own body giving me the shaft, that I certainly couldn't count on the words of a couple of doctors. But it actually happened, and now I'm at home, sitting in my bed enjoying my wireless, and both my kitties are in here snuggled up with me.

I am still very sore, and nowhere near out of the woods yet:

• I've got this drain in my stomach (they thankfully pulled out one of the two drains yesterday) until at least the middle of next week. As far as I can tell, it's not doing a god dang bit of good (i.e., there's very little actual stuff draining out of my abdomen), and it is at constant risk of infection, so the very fact that it's even there is a bewildering annoyance. Plus, it's uncomfortable and painful and damn near impossible to imagine going out in public with.
• Like I said, I've got to dose myself 3 times a day with these high-powered antibiotics in this PICC line in my upper arm. This line goes straight into my heart. The concept of injecting myself with stuff that goes straight into my damn heart makes me a little uneasy. Plus, the PICC line is at constant risk of infection as well, which would be very, very bad.
• I am so incredibly weak, it stuns me. I've lost 16 lbs. since I first went to the hospital. I needed to, no doubt. And I'm hoping I don't put one single pound back on. But that just goes to show you what a number this whole ordeal has done on my body. It's eaten away at me, and I feel 80 years old because of it.

But, I'm at home. And I got to shave my HAIRY as hell legs tonight. That was worth about $5 grand right there. And I got to spend time with The Geej tonight (who I swear has grown a damn foot since I went into the hospital). And I ate a piece of pizza for dinner. PIZZA! So, it's all good.

And I know this is L-A-M-E, but I've got to send thanks out to all my friends who kept me going during these long 3+ weeks:

Mama Malcontent--magazines, visits, flowers, the biggest mylar balloon you've ever seen, collages, A.O. artwork, staying with me twice, rallying the troops, guest posting...YOU are an amazing woman and a dear, dear friend.
Bookhart--visits, calls, helping me get a shower (sorry again about mooning you repeatedly), books, magazines, general chipperness. It all meant a ton.
Krisitin--Your ghost visits, flowers, reading materials and random goodie bags were the bomb. Laura--Showing up in your swimsuit to help me get my first shower. I mean THAT is a damn good friend.
Jules--Concered calls and warnings about yogurt and fake fingernails. I can't WAIT for you to be a P.A. because you're one of the most caring people I know.
La Turista--staying with me, staying on top of everything, and being there when I got sprung today. Muchas gracias.
Shazza--Your postcards and cards rawked! Thanks, dearie.
Jenny--Visits, and flowers, and phonecalls: the magical triumvrate. You rule.
Karla--A gorgeous hibiscus followed up by the most godawful ugly arrangement of all time (I'll post a photo tomorrow), plus your overseas phonecalls and prayers for my flatulence were all signs of your friendship.
Badger--Way cool flowers dude, and you're right: Hospitals suck.
Erwina--Your calls and visits meant a lot. I know you hate hospitals, so I really appreciated you coming to see me.
Jimmy--Your phonecalls and visits and general sweetness were much needed, much appreciated.
Jaye--I think I laughed more during your visits than anyone else's. Oh, and I remembered: Anne Heche's twin characters' names on "Another World" were Vicki and Marley.
My work team--They have taken up the slack and been so incredibly understanding and awesome throughout all of this. I am lucky to work with such wonderful people.
Mr. Wonderful--I still can't believe you flew down at a moment's notice to spend the entire weekend taking care of me during one of my roughest times. God bless you. I am so lucky to have you in my life.
Internets--I got home today and read (and posted) all of your comments. Wow. My God. Thank you for all of your sweet, positive thoughts. This has been one of the hardest things I've ever had to endure--definitely the hardest thing I've ever had to endure physically--and I can't believe that all of you, friends and strangers alike, were worrying about me and actually caring what happened to me. I am humbled by your kindness.

Dear Lord I hope I'm not forgetting anyone, although I'm sure I am. Please forgive if so. I am exhausted and on pain pills, so not all pistons are firing.

Speaking of, I'm signing off. Keep thinking good thoughts that will keep this damn infection at bay and somehow get me back to normalcy sooner rather than later.