I'm here.

Today started off rather rough. I'd done a pretty good job of "forgetting" about the fact that I was about to have another long hospital stay. So when I got called at 8:30 and told I could come in "any time now," I kind of panicked. Luckily I was able to push for a 4:30 admission time since I won't start any treatment until tomorrow. While I had the admitting nurse on the phone, I asked if I could make a room request and she said since I wasn't coming in until later, I'd have more options. I'm back on the South side of CFAC, which overlooks the ponds. It's a nice view, and I can keep my shades open all day and get sunshine without it shining in too brightly in the morning or evening. AND it's the side of CFAC where people can walk out by the ponds and wave up to me. Then I realized I still had to pack and of course I suddenly remembered all the things I wanted to do before I went back to the hospital. 

The last thing I did before admission was make Ash & Trav take a walk with Kravitz and I. I stored up some pretty awesome happy vibes there.

Of course I had to start things off with a nice fever (100.6) on admission vitals, so I got to have more labs drawn (PICC plus peripheral), urinalysis, and chest x-ray. For the record, my temp dropped down to 99.1 in less than two hours and to 98.7 in another hour. Just saying...

I feel like I mostly have this hospital thing down to a system now. One suitcase is pre-packed with hospital clothes (the tops with snaps down the side for IV access; leggings; a nice selection of my brave socks; a few hoodies; undies and hats and pajamas; my toiletry kit). A second suitcase holds my entertainment stuff (computer, iPad, portable speaker, charging cables, books, knitting, fun pens, snacks and water supplements). One bag has my shower caddy with everything I have to keep near my bedside (glasses cleaner, biotene spray, lip balm, lotion, essential oils, anti-nausea candy, back scratcher, hand sanitizer, etc.). Another bag has stuff to decorate my room (family photos, inspirational posters, fake plants). And the last bag is a white garbage bag filled with my king-sized pillow and twin XL comforter. I highly recommend all of these things if you're looking at a lengthy hospital stay.

While I did admission questions with the nurse, Greg unpacked everything. As she was going through the list of questions, the nurse said, "You've mentioned Greg and your three kids. What kind of support system do you have besides them?" And I couldn't even speak. I gestured toward Greg because tears had welled up in my eyes. How can I even begin to describe my social support system? I can't measure it. I can't possibly list all the things (and all the thoughts) that all of you have done and continue to do for me. My hospital room is full of evidence from my previous stays. My Facebook page is continually full of it. And if there is any way that support = cure, I am golden.

The nerves went away once I was here. It's a strange comforting feeling to know that I'm so closely monitored that nothing terrible can happen without someone knowing about it. :) I know it'll only be a few days until I'm so sick of having all my input and output measured, being vital'ed every 4 hours, and being connected to an IV most/all of the time. But tonight is okay. I can live with okay.