The one where Koog feels a little sorry for herself and then gets mad

It's not so bad right this minute, but this is the first time in a couple of days that I've hit all the keys right the first time in typing a sentence.

Tomorrow when I go in to see Dr. Jonsson, he will try to get me to stay in the hospital where he can keep an eye on me; he will say that he just wants me to get better, and this will be the truth. I will respond that my body is going to have to be able live outside a hospital setting, and that if they try to admit me, they're going to have to put me on happy pills because I don't think I can handle being admitted again on an emotional level. I've used all my reserves; I'm down to nothing left.

So far I'm five pounds down since I got home. That puts me at what used to be my lowest practical weight. Since I hardly eat anything any more, I do not know exactly how much body mass I've lost, but my blood pressure and the continued healthy appearance of my feet tell me that my lowest practical weight is lower than it used to be, and I haven't hit it yet. I have a reasonable guess that it's between 10 and 15 pounds less than it was six weeks ago.

On the other hand, I'm starting to look sick. My skin is very pale and despite the 14 or so hours I spend sleeping each day, I have these dark smudges under my eyes. I don't have the energy to put on makeup, that's how tired I am. (I can still manage skincare, though, so don't anybody worry too much.)

I know there are people who are sicker than I am right now. Some of them are even people I know personally. I'm only going to say this once, but I'm going to go ahead and say it: I completely changed my stripes and became utterly obedient because they said that if I did what I was told, everything would be all right. Well, I did everything they told me to do when they told me to do it; everything has not been all right.

It's not fair. 99 people out of 100 have few problems with kidney transplants, it's almost routine surgery by now with an average recovery time of three days in the hospital. Even the kidney-pancreas transplant, which is a completely different and much more difficult surgery has a 96% one-year graft survival rate. I believe that we're going to save the new kidney, because I don't know how not to believe, but wouldn't you know I'd be one of the most complicated cases they've ever seen out at Fairfax?

I will be back tomorrow, damn it. I do not live in a hospital.

So, a good thing. Market Lunch has collard greens now. I love collard greens, and just this morning I imagined going to ML and greens being on the menu. I'm not sure if you can imagine how much this means to me; I just love greens. This also means I left the house and that I got my crabcake. I couldn't finish it, in fact, there's still some of my lunch in the fridge, but I successfully walked almost a mile total. Yay legs.

I guess this is a good thing: I now have this incredible loathing for sweet things that are not fruit. Really, even fruit is a little sweet for me. The other thing I can't stand any more is white bread. I make an exception for homemade white bread, but otherwise, forget it. I assume these new tastes will make for improvements in my diet, if I can ever eat again.

before - after