Danger everywhere was one of them. I am now doing mask and gloves when I scrape the litterbox, worry about touching own face or food after touching the little cat, which I do a lot. It seems astonishing to say this animal is worth the risk to me. But a facebook friend, Rusty, writes that his mother died of a virus you catch from a litterbox. I recall New Year’s Eve saying, I don’t even want to live feeling like this, then going to Cat Welfare. I so much mourned Sheba, the loss of an animal in the house. Many tx patients feel like this, and do have pets.
I am discouraged with yet another UTI bad enough to require hospitalization, and a dangerous IV in my arm leading to my heart. Taking a shower is a big risk, means wrapping arm very carefully in plastic wrap and silk tape. It never stops, and it’s all making me feel hopeless, like why do I bother? start looking - there is danger everywhere, everywhere. A wooden-handled knife, are bacteria hiding in that wood? Leftover cooked chicken in the frig could have listeria, you can get a horrible stomach infection. No church food of course, no potlucks or buffets, you are taking your life in your hands to eat chili from Wendy’s which is at least governed by some sanitation laws.
A friend shares my discouragement - I do so many things to be healthy, she says, and she does, yet this. Add to this in my case a badly damaged relationship with my tx surgeon, contradictory orders, and worst of all, his nurse (I assume he ordered her) throwing a tantrum at me because my PCP put me in the hospital where he has privileges. She was probably just repeating the tantrum he threw at her. I am waiting to hear about being assigned to someone else. Yet, as Tom comments, sometimes the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t know. Yes, you are stepping into unfamiliarity. I have low expectations now. By and large, doctors I have met over the years in teaching hospitals are unbearably arrogant, given to telling you what they are going to do without explanation of the options, and to hell with the common knowledge that patients do best when they feel in charge of their care.
Cellphone alarm. Now what? Time for noon pills. Rapamune. Siroliumus, that is. One after another these meds make me feel sick. Nose bleed, upset stomach, headache, just plain disgusted with the medical profession. It’s one thing to be sick and old and die, another thing when someone has promised you a new life and you get one infection after another (because of the immunosuppressants) and never a week off to feel good.
And this moodiness caused by who knows what - big weather keeps coming thru, I have fibromyalgia, which can cause depression among many other things. Not helped by the conflict with Dr. God touching on my ancient beginningless issues around an abusive father not acting like a father should. Well, of course, your ideas and expectations get you in trouble.
Good mood, bad mood - who the hell am I? One day I love this new book of poetry I got by Tony Hoagland. The next day it is boring. I am bored by pretty much everything. Okay, opportunity for a major Buddhist insight: Wun is constantly changing, influenced by everything, many of those things invisible to our stupid blinkered western eyes. Hang on, this too will pass.