Soooo good to be ‘home’ from the hospital! My first two meals were the most delicious I’ve ever had!
Fried rice and egg roll;
Lou Malnati’s deep dish pizza, a gift from Adam and Sami Schwartz—yum!
Transition went smoothly, and once our bedtime plan was in place, all three of us slept well, last night. First step in night time plan, bedpan, lined with a throw-away pad and plastic bag topped by a pull tie for quick cleanup is readied right next to my side of our Airbnb bed. At whatever ever time Will awakens to take care of his night time needs, he slides this perfect sized bedpan (chosen on Amazon) toward me. And thanks to liners, ordered, which fully cover bedpan, no clean up is necessary as refuse is left behind in a bag with a pull tie that shortens our wakeful time. Then, right before gently lying down beside me, Will, bright angel in the dark night, offers me pain meds, and as we both settle back to sleep soundly, again, for hours at a stretch, you can see why I say that beginning each day with this night time plan in place has proved so far so good.🙋🏻♀️
This morning’s combination of meds are barely keeping pain at a tolerable level as long as I don’t try to move. The foam bed wedge we bought via amazon is strategically placed under three pillows leaning against the headboard so as to hold my head, neck and upper body at a comforting angle of repose, and little by little, swelling from fluid retention is going down.
As I eat next to nothing, my ten pound weight gain came as a huge surprise until I was reassured that, while hospitalized, fluids had been pumped into me, every day, 24/7.
Believe it or not, Will and David are finally gagging on basketball. So let’s envision a writer’s room in which creativity is taking gargantuan leaps of faith from walls and ceilings in hopes of proding the snarling nature of the voracious bear, seen cowering neath the presidential desk in The Oval Offic, who bites everyone in sight, and thankfully, as a result of these writers working to keep hold of their sanity while craziness rages round our country, we get to binge on The Good Fight—the only TV series that takes trump and his rock headed cronies straight to the swamp, which is deeper than ever. And each time the writers’ words of wisdom crash into trump’s brainless cranium, we must be prepared with rain capes because a deluge of Kool aid is bound to spew all over everyone in the room.
At any rate, that’s all my intuitive think tank can easily release for, right now, other than to reiterate that in addition to Will and David exercising their hearts to meet my every need in the most loving ways, all of you, most especially, Barry and Steven, come up with ways that continue to propel this virtual magic carpet ride, which will transport us ever so caringly to my three doctors’ offices, next week, where we’ll hopefully receive the heave ho to donne our hazmat suits, fly home and begin to place the puzzle-Imme like nature of this past year and a half (ever since chest pain and misdiagnosis began) behind us, along with trump’s administration, pence’s beady-eyed insanity, and all of their green eyed,flying purple people eating cronies, who actually believe Covid is a hoax... So for our nation to overcome before our innocent children can attend schools run by clear headed adults whose minds have not bathed in vats filled with so much kool aid as has been true of the Republican Party as can be seen by their electing a sexual predator after which, they’ve remained standing in staunch support of a napoleonic figurehead, who, within the near future, foresees himself as the despicable donald, so swathed in personal power as to have transformed DC’s swamp into a poppy field under which we’ll have been bewitched to bow to his dictatorship unless Vote Blue transitions from a battle cry into a reality at the poles, come November ... so just as I have a gargantuan feat of healing ahead of me in order to reconnect every broken bone that two brilliant surgeons separated so as to scoop out the invader, which, left to its own devices, would have squeezed the life juices out of my lungs and my heart, (and since I know of no one in history who has worked toward encouraging the formation of a grass roots movement in hopes of creating lasting change for the better across the board until the deadly tumor, dwelling in The White House has been expunged, ASAP, let’s each do our part to participate in the expansion of that gargantuan leap of faith toward reunification, focusing, firstly, upon the open mindedness of children so that deeply painful national healing can get underway as we fortify our long lost sense of brotherhood and sisterhood, at long last!
I have just one more insight that longs to tickle your ear before I arise to face my daily plan for healing my body, which, upon the front side, resembles a road map from collarbone to groin while my upper back, left side, is still a mystery to me, since I can’t see around corners and thus, have no clue how much was in need of cutting and stitching after the upper third of my right lung was removed, last week.
At this point, it’s late morning, and Will’s ready to help me get cleaned up, so—more later, except to add:
Stay Well!
Be safe
Feel my love
🙋🏻♀️❤️
Sent from my iPhone
‘The important thing is not to stop questioning.’--Albert Einstein
