Moving on . . . (unfortunately)

Well, the good news is . . . they have wireless in the hospital. The bad news is that I'm using it, which means that yes, I am in sitting in a stylish hospital gown, writing this update to you. It's been a bit of a road getting here.

This morning at 3 am I woke up sort of. I managed to sit up but felt really, really, really off. Very weak. Lightheaded maybe? I called for help and my roommate Jodi woke up and came in and sat with me, turned on the light, woke up my dad. I couldn't see anything (they said my eyes were wide open), and don't really remember until I started to come to. My vision was all funky, my ears were ringing. It was pretty much superscary for everyone involved. And so we set off for the ER. (By the way, 3am is the absolute best weather Tucson has to offer in August).

They checked me in and checked me out all over - my blood pressure was really low, my pulse was weird. They did an EKG (I still have the sticky tabs on my legs), put me on some fluid IV for hydration. They did a CAT scan of my head to make sure I was alright in the head, and one of my abdomen and pelvis (both okay) and one of my chest. There it was. I have a Pulmonary Embolism, a blood clot in my lung. So, yesterday's blood clot moved on out of my arm and stuck in my lung. I think I heard I have 4 in one side and 3 in the other, but that could be something totally different.

So the present time has me in a hospital bed in a cardiac unit, much to the surprise of the nurses, who are not used to having 24-year-olds in their wing. My nurse was so pleased that I could "do things for myself," when I pushed my own "backrest up" button on my bed, so I could sit up. I'm also hooked up to a heart monitor with various sticky snaps on my torso. To this end I even get a special pocket on my hospital gown, and when I'm laying down, my heart monitor lies nestled in my bosom, just where Grazelda the Good used to sleep. I haven't named my friend the heart monitor yet, but am sorely tempted.

I'm feeling fairly well, and my oncologist stopped by a little earlier with a very optimistic perspective - very little chance of dying, this could almost surely have been managed outpatient, let's do the Bleomycin (chemo drug I was supposed to get today) while you're here with an IV anyway.

And at this hospital, the slipper socks have smiley faces on them!