That old, familar place

Which was that I needed to be in a hospital. The docs suspected that I had a toxic level of one or more of my immunosuppressants, but even after cutting the dose of one of them in half my sypmtoms have not resolved. I know they won't send me home before the problem is at least identified, so I am not really worried. In fact, I am already thinking about things I'd like to do when I get out.

See, Fedward and I took a trip out to IKEA on Friday, so I had decorating fever. Not a bad case, but I wanted to rev up my organizing engines and maybe buy a rug or fashion some window treatments for the front room. At least take down the Christmas tree. That's really the least I can do. But now I lay in a hospital bed contemplating the passage of time. We're doing a biopsy on the transplanted kidney this afternoon, and I guess I'm glad we're doing it now rather than later. I just want some answers!

But I thought I was going home on Monday, so I am disappointed to be here still.

They're coming with lunch now. I can hear the rickety aluminum cart lumbering down the hall. The hospital food service people won't enter my room because I am still in isolation, but they place the tray on a cart outside my door, and a nurse's assistant (when did they stop being called nurse's aides?) brings it in. Today's assistant is named Tenielle. As in "The Captain and..."

Go figure.

before - after