I am in the hospital. I didn't pay attention to the warning signs my body usually gives me and I ended up sick. Really sick. So, though I dislike hospital stays (and who doesn't?), I allowed the ubiquitous them to put me in. I was led to believe it would be only for 5 hours of IVs. Nope, that was 2 1/2 days ago. Many tests later and listening to Clyde down the hall saying he needs to pee, I am still here.
I honestly thought I could go home today. My body just would not cooperate. They would take my temp and it would refuse to show up normal! What the heck is going on? I felt better! Why could it not show normal? Sigh.
After the nurse practitioner left my room...
Wait, I need to state right here, she is a sweetie. She is smart and knows her stuff. Throw in a huge amount of compassion and you've got Cindy.
Anyway, after the nurse practioner left my room, the tears started to flow. George got the tissues and said that we would take what comes. Everything would be ok. Didn't help. Tears kept coming. Thoughts kept coming.
I wanted to see my dogs.
I wanted a bath. Good God! The world had to know how much I needed a bath!
I wanted to be in my own home, in our backyard with the sun on my face.
I wanted the IV out, I wanted, I wanted, I wanted.... And then it hit me. In the coming weeks I would have several tests coming up. They were going to give me a little red schedule book. Much like older people would be given by other doctors' offices to keep track of when and where they needed to be.
NOOOOOOO!!!
I was getting old!
And irrational.
My brain kicked in and said "Stop It! Get hold of yourself woman!"
George went and asked if I could have access to the local internet service and was given permission.
A nurse arranged for me to have a shower and the IV was moved to a better, more manageable place.
Don't get to see my dogs just yet. But I have hopes for tomorrow.
And, I'm not old.