Decrepit Old Fool

The question on my mind is; “What the hell just happened here?”  Doctor W’s partner, Dr. T, was on call Sunday when I went into the emergency room.  And he said that we may never know.  The CAT scan doesn’t clarify it, other than noting that a section of peritoneum, normally paper-thin, was swollen to an inch thick.  He said that even if we went back in for another operation, it might not be possible to tell exactly what’s wrong or what caused it.  But clearly there was some infection, and he said the odds favored a conservative approach.

Thus began another three days of IV antibiotics, and I am back home with a couple different particularly strong oral antibiotics.  Considerably weaker than when I returned from surgery the first time but having escaped a second operation for now.  The task now is to regain my strength and return to my life already in progress. 

There are challenges.  It’s hard to describe how weak losing 30 lbs in 24 days makes you.  I’m on liquid diet, though I can go to soft foods like scrambled eggs on Saturday.  Maybe once the antibiotics are done, I’ll be able to strike up more interest in food.  That will be next Wednesday.  Every twinge in my gut scares the bejeezus out of me now.

But I have made some progress; my mind is clearing and I think that’ll be crucial to recovery.

I am incredibly thankful for Diane, for my sons who are so supportive, for the medical wizards who were up in the middle of the night to save my ass, for my friends including my boss, my job, and for my good insurance.