Poor, sick Pancakes.

My new Borg appearance.

Poor, sick Pancakes.

Home sweet home.

Every night Chuck and I read in bed before going to sleep. Inevidently, Chuck goes to sleep before me . Just before turning out his light, he would always turn to me and say, "Goodnight, Dear." One night I couldn't take it anymore. "Goodnight Dear sounds like something Mr. Cleaver shouted to Mrs. Cleaver from his bedroom down the hall," I told Chuck. "Fine," he responded. "What do you want me to call you?" Without much thinking I said, "I don't know. Perhaps Baby, Babe or even Babycakes would all sound more 21st Century." And ever since that night, before Chuck turns out the light, he turns to me and says "Goodnight, Pancakes".

Rather than being offended, I am thrilled he has associated me in his mind with something short, fluffy, delicious and which I know he loves immensely. Unfortunately, right now I am poor, sick pancakes.

If you are reading this private blog, you know I was hospitalized in late July/early August with Acute Diverticulitis. At the time, I was given massive doses of antibiotics and told I barely escaped a ruputured colon and surgery. However, I never really recovered. Since the summer, I have ran a constant fever, had lower abdomanial pain and extreme fatigue. In fact, even though I only work three days a week, most weeks I couldn't even handle that limited schedule.

It strikes me as odd that all this time I never realized how sick I really was. Each day at work, I would usually eat my lunch at my desk in about 10 minutes then shut my door, spread my coat on the floor and lie down for the remaining hour. If I had some innate intelligence, I suppose I should have noticed my co-workers didn't require romper room naps. I just kept thinking, "If I eat better, I'll feel fine" and pop in another Ho-Ho and down it with a Pepsi. While I'm sure my diet, while not always that extreme, could have been better I now know my problems were much deeper than diet.

According to my Infectious Disease doctor, Dr. West, my colon did actually rupture in the hospital last summer. As a result, my colon folded in on itself in order to cover the rupture and formed a hard mass. Dr. West says the infection has just been simmering all this time and only the fact that I have been on antibiotics most of the time since being released several months ago has allowed it to stay under control to a certain extent. Dr. West feels they should have done at that time, what we are doing now. I am currently on 4 different antibiotics (I call it my gut chemo though of course this is not cancer), Flagyl, Levaquin, Vaneomycin and Kocephin (sp?). I will be on all these antibiotics for about two weeks and then once the infection is sufficiently under control, I will have colon resection surgery, tentatively scheduled for next Wednesday.

It is frustrating to basically be told your last doctor really messed up. Of course, they don't say it in quite those terms. After all, no one wants to be called to testify at a nasty malpractice trial so they couch it in terms of, "Now of course I wasn't there so there may be factors I'm unaware of but usually......". Had they put me through this regimen and surgery this summer, I would be all healed by now. I feel very confident in Dr. West and my surgeon, Dr. Lui.

Right now, I am back home. I was admitted to St. Francis hospital last Friday morning and was released about 7pm last night. However, I must now go back to the hospital each day for my IV antibiotics which takes about 4 hours a day. While in the hospital, they had a very difficult time getting IV's started. I apparently have very small veins and even using a 24 gauge needle which is what they use on babies, they were eventually unable to find any usuable veins. I have bruises up and down my arms from all the failed attempts. On the last attempt, it appeared the nurse was just digging around hoping to find the vein. It was terribly painful and I finally loooked at Chuck who was holding my hand and just mouthed, "stop". Chuck, in his very kind manner, suggested to the nurse we stop and ask the supervisor to look at my veins. I have never loved him more.

As a result of my small veins, it was decided I needed to have a "Central" or sub-clavian line installed. I couldn't even have a Picc line since my veins were too small. They installed the Central Line which felt like having your breast bone broken and then having a heart attack. If anyone ever wants to put one of these in you, RUN. FAST. I couldn't escape and they inserted it in my room. It took about 45 minutes and had to be performed by my surgeon. I think I look very Borg-like with my implanted chest tube. Chuck keeps telling me to just think of it as a corsage or a very ugly broach. The good thing is no more sticks. They can take blood directly from the line as well as just hook me up for all my antibiotics. It will hopefully last through the surgery and beyond.

Don't let these pictures fool you. As bad as I look, I feel worse. But I am endeavoring to have a positive attitute and focus on the eventual outcome, not the tempory discomfort and resulting bad hair days. Chuck and my Mom have been truly wonderful.

I will try to post again before the surgery but most days feel too weak and tired to do much of anything. I should be in St. Francis hospital 7-10 days following the surgery. Thanks to everyone for all the calls and cards.