Yep, I’m still soldiering through this gnarly hospital adventure. Here’s the scoop so far:

Two days after an outpatient kidney stone procedure, a high fever and chills rendered me incapable of transferring into my wheelchair. A 911 call invited paramedics to scoop me out of my bed, plop me onto a stretcher, and into an ambulance.

The ER diagnosis was a scary word I wouldn’t even say out loud until they found the right drug to battle it: Sepsis.

My hospital app put it so crisply:

What hasn’t been so simple is the treatment.

Twice, physicians tried to hurry me along and discharge me, suggesting we could work out the details as we go.

I was stunned the first time; I still had a low-grade fever, so I practically begged for more time.

The next day, test results revealed I was on the wrong antibiotic! Then, just as I was beginning to feel better, another physician told me I was scheduled to be discharged.

Granted, I was better. And I was stable. And I was on the correct antibiotic. I agreed with those premises.

However, this new antibiotic, taken three times a day for 14 days through an IV, would require a “tube to be stitched into my arm” prior to discharge.

What?!

And, a vascular surgical team was lurking outside my door just waiting to do the 30-minute bedside procedure.

Are you kidding me?!

It was too fast. I could not take it all in.

So, I “politely” (for the most part) explained to the physician that I wasn’t quite ready for that tube to be stitched into my arm. That I needed to understand the procedure a bit more. That I needed to envision it in my daily routines from the wheelchair.

“I’m slow,” I admitted. “I need time to process things. I don’t do well with surprises. I really need a plan.”

Thankfully, the doc and the surgical team mosied along to another room.

Meanwhile, I shook my head thinking about the scene. What just happened?

What am I anyway, a pop tart? You can’t just eject me when you think I’m done.

Right?

Maybe I’m more like a banana nut muffin. One that requires a little more attention and flexibility to determine the proper baking time.

Ha!

About that time, an energetic social worker popped in, and so did her creative ideas. Within 24 hours, we had a detailed discharge plan and were on our way to executing it.

I hope the next time you hear from me, this banana nut muffin will be DONE with this hospital adventure and giving you a full recovery report.

Meanwhile, thank you so much for your thoughts, prayers, and expressions of concern. I have read and cherished every email reply. You have no idea how your thoughtfulness gives me strength. Keep them coming!