Now that the therapy has concluded with an appropriate fanfare (Puccini's Tosca belting out Saint James Infirmary) I can relax and recover. Right? Wrong. Real wrong. I've spent most of my days in the hospital hooked up to multiple bags holding various concoctions which are guaranteed to keep my electrolytes in balance. We hope.
The real blessing is that the constant nausea is gone or is under control. The stomach being a small part of the digestive system, the intestines are free to give me one form of hell or another, and I now know that my mother's favorite son can have constipation and diarrhea at the same time.
Right now I'm getting nutrition from a bag of slop hooked up to my feeding tube and being fed into me by a pump. If not for the pump regulating the flow, I would truly be up against it.
I want to thank all of you for your kind words, prayers and patience. This is a bad road I'm on and every single prayer helps. Just this afternoon Main Lady stopped over with a small bowl of yellow squash soup, and wonder of wonders I could actually taste the soup. I am overjoyed, literally. Everything else tastes like sawdust, and because of my dry mouth condition most foods are off the menu - I need soup or something the consistency of soup, not too spicy because my throat has the same feeling you get right after a tonsillectomy.
The pain medications are making me paranoid and hallucinate. Not badly, mind you, but hallucinations are what they are.
Well, thanks to all of you.