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.

From the desk of Karla May

Well, I don't even know what day this is of my captivity. Total (trip 1 and trip 2)? Nineteen days. Just this go-round, I've been here since the 6th. To say I am frustrated, exhausted, and ready to GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE is a massive understatement.

This whole experience has humbled, humiliated, saddened and tortured me in ways I never knew imaginable. The long and short of it is that I came in for a (relatively) simple surgery on 8/30 (Trip 1). It went fine except there was the unforeseen complication of having to remove about a 10" portion of my colon. This sucked, mind you, but I was told that since you have like 750 feet of intestine/colon-y stuff in there, a missing foot or so was no big whoop.

So I get released from Trip 1 on Labor Day. I'm doing fine for a day or so, then WHAM! 104.2 degree fever and intense abdominal pain that literally defied description.

So they send me back to the ER at this place--my blood pressure is alarmingly low, I can't sit up or walk on my own, my fever's out of control--and re-admit me on 9/6. And I've been here fighting the infection of a lifetime since then. I've had some progress, but these moments are almost always followed by some ridiculously disappointing set back. Victories have been too few and too spread out to really see them. (Although, I suppose avoiding surgery that would've left me with a sick-as-hell temporary colostomy for 3-4 months should be considered a pretty big deal).

The food has sucked. My room has become like a prison cell, and my IV tower is like a literal ball and chain. The nursing staff on this floor--all of whom I've had as my caretakers at one point or another--vary wildly in skills and abilities. Thankfully, about 75% of them are good to very good, but that other 25% should look for something new to do because nursing is clearly not their gig.

Right now, it's 6:30 AM on Monday 9/18. I'm writing on a yellow pad the wonderful Mama Malcontent brought me for just such an occasion. (She also brought me a collage she made of Justin Timberlake pictures, with JT urging me to "get my sexy back and get well!")

I have two drains coming out of my abdomen, draining out icky, infected fluid. I'm hooked up to an almost constant supply of antibiotic fluids and (thankfully) painkillers that go in through a central PICC line in my upper, inner arm. I run a fever at least a couple of times a day.

My sides and back hurt immensely because of the amount of time I simply spend lying in bed. My legs haven't been shaved since late August. My back and chest are broken out in an ugly, itchy rash. I haven't gotten to hang with The Geej for more than 30 minutes at a time in weeks. And that promotion at work that I worked so hard for? THIS is how I'm spending my crucial first month. Damn, I hope my health insurance is good because there is seriously no imagining how much all of this fun is going to end up costing.

I am miserable, Internets. And I have no idea when I'm getting out of this place (this week, surely) or how long it's going to take me to be back to normal again. I don't have any recollection of what "normal" is anyway.

So even though I'm not there to moderate them, and post them right away, please feel free to post some comments. It'll give me something to look forward to reading when I finally get home. And please keep me in your thoughts. I just keep repeating the words "WELL," "STRENGTH," and "HOME" in my head over and over with hopes that somehow their positivity will impact what's going on.

Until next time--

Peace and health,
Karla May

P.S. Mad props to Mama Malcontent for doing these guest posts for me. Thanks gal!!

For those of you needing a Geej fix...

Anything to knock that awful dead lizard a few more notches.

Malcontent Mama pirating Ms. Pine Curtain's world again. She's still stuck and is getting mighty testy, with a little luck and some progress she hopes to be sprung by the weekend. She's shown some improvement but is still being dogged by a slight fever, fatigue, loss of appetite and most of all boredom/frustration. She is not the sort to kick back and enjoy ill health and the past 2 weeks have been agonizing. Keep the healing thoughts headed in her general direction.

As you can see, the Geej is doing just fine with her saintly Dah and had a wonderful time hanging with the Malcontettes.

Karla May is Alive and Well...

and still raising hell in the hospital.

Hopefully the stupidfucking infection is an abscess that can remedied quickly and non-surgically with another night under observation. If everything goes well, she could be out as soon as Wednesday.

Keep sending the love and good thoughts in her direction (the comment moderator is on) until she can come home.

-Malcontent Mama

Next time you think you're having a craptacular day...

...consider this pitiful guy: I have a basketball goal located next to my driveway because I'm REALLY into b-ball. (Notsomuch. It came with the house.) And I spied this poor little bastard hanging there, dead when I was getting out of my mom's car today. Pending the full forensics report, I'm guessing that the cause of death was that he shoved his big ol' gecko head in that hole and both of his arms too, then couldn't figure out how to get out of there and just croaked. How sad is that?

Whoa.

Well, THAT sucked.

Had that stupidfuckingsurgery last Wednesday. Got out of the stupidfuckinghospital yesterday. I've got 19 staples in my lower abdomen and my colon's about 1 foot shorter, but hey--IT WASN'T CANCER--so there you go.

I'm in for a pretty long recuperation, which should be interesting since
a) I just got a promotion that I haven't gotten to move into in any officical way since I've been out of the office so freakin' much and
b) I have a 2 year old who is suddenly more needy than normal

So yeah.

What does Karla May's long recuperation mean for you? (God, you're selfish!) Why, lots and lots of boredom-inspired blog posts, of course!

By the way, a big, heart-felt THANK YOU to all of you (some friends, some total strangers) who posted comments of encouragement when I wrote my previous "Blog Hiatus" post. This here internet thing is pretty cool. I think it may catch on!!

P.S. As I type this, it's 8:30 a.m., raining, and only 70 degrees. I am a HAPPY camper about that.