I had to take a break after that last post. I didn't cry (for long), but I really am going to miss my friend so much. Here is the final (so far) installment of my never-ending week:
As Monday morning dawned, I was finally feeling good enough to get out of my hospital bed and visit with my roomie. I also got a long visit from my husband, and the chaplain's office sent a volunteer (He was about 85, shuffling gait, pants pulled up high) to see if I needed their services. He kept looking at my husband who was sitting on end of the bed (wearing regular clothes, mind you), and then just stared and said, "Ranae???" Apparently he never saw me sitting in the chair three feet in front of him wearing my ever-so-attractive hospital gown... (Hubby and I were able to laugh about that after he left.)
As the day went on, my arms got redder and itchier. Turns out that I'm allergic to the tape used to hold IVs in. Whoodathunkit? Anyway, they had moved my IV in the middle of the night on Sunday---in the ER they had put it in my left arm (I'm a lefty, so that worked soooo well, plus all that crying and bending my arm had bent the line.). So now I had the giant patch of red, irritated skin on my left arm, plus bruises from where the lab techs had drawn blood, and then irritated skin on my right arm where the IV was, plus the feeling that fire ants were marching up and down my arm from the allergic reaction. Benadryl wasn't helping, and so on Tuesday they called the needle IV specialist lady in to put in a 3rd IV--hers didn't hurt OR itch!
Soooo, by the time I was allowed to leave on Wednesday, I was a bruised mess. I was as weak as a kitten, and spent most of the rest of the night sleeping, peeing, and medicating. (What a party, huh?)
Thursday was my friend's funeral---I couldn't really walk very far, but gave it my all to attend her funeral--or as we called it, the celebration of her life. I was only able to stay for about 1/2 of it, but I was able to honor her life. That helped a lot.
So, what now? Well, at this moment, I'm sitting at home instead of at church, because I truly do need to be able to go back to work tomorrow. From there I'll see the doctor on Friday, schedule surgery #2, and then get it out of the way. I still have all the questions I had one week ago, and it still hurts to see all those dreams turn to ash, but I'm going to turn to the words of David in Psalms "Why are you downcast, O my soul?" I am going to turn to God and lean heavily on him, hoping that my joy really will come in the morning.