It's been a long time, now I'm coming back home

 I had a doctor appointment in September, at which time I attempted to address the pain in my side to no avail.

In October, I wound up in the hospital for a week of antibiotics and fluids for treatment of the gall bladder.  Surgery was scheduled ...for December (!!) and I was instructed to adhere to a limited diet.

December came and just days before the surgery the young doctor from the hospital showed up at our door.  Surgery is cancelled (Why?  Never got an answer...I suspect the Christmas holiday)  I was told I would be contacted to reschedule.

The reschedule date was March 3.  I was not a happy camper, to say the least, and attempted to find other pathways (in the world of paying patients) to no avail.  Covid was dominating the scene. So there I was, stuck with March 3.

The day came, I recovered in the hospital and was sent home.  But I still didn't feel well.  I didn't feel....right.  Days passed and I got weaker and sicker.  My husband contacted the doctor and I was given oral antibiotics.  I took them.  I didn't get better.

In fact, I was getting worse.  I could not lie down to rest, I had to stay upright.  I was up most of the night, sitting in the chair in the living room.  We contacted the doctor again and I was told to come into the ER, which I did.  They did a Covid test, and then waited fucking hours for the result.  It was negative and I was admitted.  At this point, I was under the impression that I would be in the hospital for just a couple of days.  I was not informed that I had pneumonia.  I was very ill...very ill, had lost my voice entirely and only wanted to sleep, if that was at all possible. 

I spent two entire weeks in the hospital and I will write more about that when I, myself, am ready to face that ordeal.  

I'm still here....still alive.