I think I get to go home today. I say I "think" because most of the medical teams have thought I'd be able to. I don't have the final word yet, though .
I'm quite a bit weaker this time than the time I was discharged. It's taking me a whole lot longer to write this post, because I keep making spelling and grammar errors, and going back and correcting them. I don't know if that's a function of my brain or my small motor skills, but either way it's a pain in the butt. On the up-side, my iPhone recognizes my thumb print again. I don't know how chemo screwed that up. Alison pointed me in a direction of an article about this very thing. I guess it happens to other people. But to me there was nothing different looking or feeling about my finger tips. Weird. I should put this on the list of things to ask the doctors before I leave. That and how I started having such vivid, lucid dreams. That was pretty extreme. Sometimes I would start talking in my sleep and wake up, knowing that I'd been sleeping alone, and finish the conversation even though I knew no one was there. I asked one of my nurses about it and he told me he had a whole conversation with me about San Francisco while I was sleeping about San Francisco. I have no idea what I would have said about San Fransisco..
Along with the weakness and skin weirdness, I might have to go home with oxygen. Also, I finally lost all of my eyelashes, expect for a few hangers-on. My eyebrows are looking pretty anemic too. So I'm going to be looking pretty pitiful when I get out of here. I would say at least I won't need a wheelchair, but who knows, they might actually send me home with a wheelchair as well.
Now I need to pee, and take a long nap.
That was nice. See you next time.
I'm quite a bit weaker this time than the time I was discharged. It's taking me a whole lot longer to write this post, because I keep making spelling and grammar errors, and going back and correcting them. I don't know if that's a function of my brain or my small motor skills, but either way it's a pain in the butt. On the up-side, my iPhone recognizes my thumb print again. I don't know how chemo screwed that up. Alison pointed me in a direction of an article about this very thing. I guess it happens to other people. But to me there was nothing different looking or feeling about my finger tips. Weird. I should put this on the list of things to ask the doctors before I leave. That and how I started having such vivid, lucid dreams. That was pretty extreme. Sometimes I would start talking in my sleep and wake up, knowing that I'd been sleeping alone, and finish the conversation even though I knew no one was there. I asked one of my nurses about it and he told me he had a whole conversation with me about San Francisco while I was sleeping about San Francisco. I have no idea what I would have said about San Fransisco..
Along with the weakness and skin weirdness, I might have to go home with oxygen. Also, I finally lost all of my eyelashes, expect for a few hangers-on. My eyebrows are looking pretty anemic too. So I'm going to be looking pretty pitiful when I get out of here. I would say at least I won't need a wheelchair, but who knows, they might actually send me home with a wheelchair as well.
Now I need to pee, and take a long nap.
That was nice. See you next time.
Rooting for you to do your lucid dreaming in your own home. Maybe Pisco will have something enlightening to share.
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