I hope you all had a lovely weekend and Monday. I myself spent that time period back in the hospital. Please, no gasps of horror!
I’d had Buck go to the grocery store last week and get some of those salads that they always have back in the deli case somewhere: tuna, chicken, egg salad. With the accompanying mayonnaise-based dressings, they all looked surprisingly similar to each other. Two days’ worth of ever increasing queasiness, to the point of lashing out at anyone who said a food word, had me ready to go back to the hospital last Friday night. Even Zofran didn’t help clean up the tummy.
Fortunately, Our Friend Sally was there (she’s a doctor, remember), and she convinced me of the bad timing inherent in that act. Here at home, she said, I can at least be in my own bed, in a nice private place, and still get roughly the same attention I’d be getting at the hospital emergency room.
Next morning, bright and early, I mustered remaining energies, did a few phone calls, and was reinstalled in a nice, sunny room. Poking, prodding, testing. Queasiness leaves. It has still not returned.
Now, home again. I like the sound of that phrase: “Home again.” Off tube feedings for a while to see if I can eat enough on my own. I feel as though I’m over a big hump now.