The exploding of the organs, part the second.

So the healing began.

As I mentioned previously, getting out of the bed was a complicated procedure. But they made me do it to take walks every day. Part of the walking was to get me up and moving, so that I didn't get bedsores or something, but part of it was to get my bowels working. Because they wouldn't let me leave until I pooped. And let me tell you - discussing your bowel movements with every person who comes in the room is really embarrassing. At first. You get used to it. Discussing them with your mom is also weird, even though she was around for the first ones you ever had.

All the walking was done in the triangular hallway. The first time, I made one lap and I was so exhausted I had to take a two hour nap. But gradually I built up my tolerance until I could go around for as many as five laps before I needed to rest. (I'm told twenty-one laps makes a mile.) I was shocked that I got tired so easily - whose body gets tired that easily? As I recover, I continue to be shocked by this. I'm used to running in the park and hustling past people on the sidewalk, and suddenly I'm tired out by a length of stairs?

But anyway. The best part about walking was the other walkers. We were all shuffling down the hallways in slow motion like zombies, with our IV poles clutched in one hand and our identical hospital gowns flowing around us. But being in the same situation built this weird instant comradery. We understood what the others were going through. We compared notes on how many laps we'd done, how much the NG (nose to stomach) tubes sucked, how fast or slow we were, when we were leaving. Once I was commiserating with this woman about NG tubes, and she said "well, at least I don't have cancer anymore!" and I was floored. Another time I opened my mouth to talk to a new guy, but his IV promptly burst out of his hand and he started bleeding everywhere. We were some unhealthy people.

The thing I wanted most, besides water, was to have my NG tube out. I wasn't allowed any food or water at this point, only ice chips - and then they took my ice chips away. It seems I was abusing them by eating too much, which meant they couldn't tell how much my tube was sucking out because it was busy sucking out water from the ice chips. So they forbade the ice chips and gave me - wait for it - A SPONGE ON A STICK. Yes. According to Katie, it was at this point that I was truly pathetic. I had a little sponge on a stick, a tiny bit of water in a cup, and that was all. (I kept a few of them, when I left. If anybody wants one, let me know. They really convey a sense of tragedy and pathos) But it worked, and finally a woman came and pulled the thing out. Pulling it out hurt almost as much as shoving it in, but it was worth it. Because they gave me an entire cup of water after that!



At this point, all I had was one IV, and a tube in my stomach! I was practically free. They even let me take a shower at this point - my first in a week. I had to keep one hand out of the water and have help with shampooing and soaping and all, but it was glorious none the less. I had grown a pretty impressive forest of leg and under-arm hair at this point, too.

And then they started giving me hospital food. I can usually tell when I'm actually sick because I'm not interested in food (very unusual for me) but I don't think anyone would have been interested in this food. Besides that, they kept sending me glutenous food. I'm totally tolerant when people unknowingly or accidentally try to give me food with gluten in it in normal life - it's my own problem to worry about, not theirs. But registered dieticians who have my chart which lists my gluten allergy on it? C'mon. So I ate the off-brand Jello and drank the juice and could not be persuaded to do more.

Let's fast forward a few days.

They finally decided to discharge me. They loaded up me, my flowers, and my stuffed animal in a giant wheel chair and rolled me through the hospital that I had never seen clearly before and all the way out to my dad's car. The drive home was bumpy and painful, but when we got there Jessica was there to meet us. I figured that Katie and my mom had done enough nursing to last them a while, so I called my favorite future doctor and got her to come stay with me for a few days.

We made the couch my new hospital bed, and for the next few days Jessica fed me smoothies, timed my pill doses, bandaged my wounds, and took care of my dog. She went with me to get the tube taken out of my stomach (surprisingly unpainful!) and told me it was probably unethical to ask out the doctor who removed it. When I was ready to go back to class, she drove me there and picked me up, so that I wouldn't have to walk too much. She was really wonderful and patient.

But eventually she went home. And I was left alone. And for the past couple of weeks I've been recovering slowly. I've been cutting down on pain pills, adding blocks to my walk, feeding myself, and getting back to my normal life. I've had a lot of support from everyone in my life, and I'm really grateful to you all. All the sweet notes on facebook, the cards, the rides home from school, etc. have really meant a lot to me. It's nice to know that when your organs explode, your friends are there for you.