Hospitals & CT Scans & Warmth... oh ... my

Today I go to the hospital for a CT scan that will hopefully tell the doctors why i've had a fever for so long. They think it's probably due to an absess in my healed incision, (underneath it rather), that is giving me grief. Last night I had to drink 32oz of Barium. It's what the docs call "Contrast" in that it literally makes all my organs glow. This is so they can see any absesses clearly on the scans. Once they see an absess, they can determine how big it is and what should happen next. Either they'll do an outpatient drain which may or may not mean I would have some type of mechanism at home as well, or if it's really bad (and they do not think it is, and I'm hoping it's not this bad) they would admit me to the hospital. In fact, they are having me register tomorrow as a patient as a precautionary measure.

All this is scary...even tempered with the doctors thoughts that it's just a pocket of infection. And because of my fear, I've been a wreck today. This whole ordeal has me unnerved and things that I didn't deal with in regards to the entire surgery/cancer/process that I've gone through surfaced. I reflected on how I can't believe I had cancer. Or how I can't believe I survived thus far unmarred. Or how I can't believe it's gone (not disbelief mind you, but awe over the miracles of modern science...).

It's so easy to forget those things. Those very important things.

My hope tomorrow, is that I am not admitted to the hospital. I do not want to spend ANY holiday in the hospital let alone Christmas. When I thought of this today, I remembered Jessie. She went into the hospital near Christmas time in 2003. In March of 2004 she was released, but then in June of that same year she passed away.

I think about her a lot as I'm sure you all know. Her whole journey around this time was very difficult and I can only imagine even having experienced some of it in a small way through her, how she must have felt. And now while going through my own journey with respect to this, I still can't imagine what she went through, spending so much time in the hospital; but I do understand more.

Last night when I couldn't sleep, I said a few words to Jessie. I told her how wonderful Mark has been in helping me, being a shoulder for me when I needed to spill the most intimate details of my fears, misgivings and sharing with me my joys. I thanked her for being in my life and letting a relationship grow so strong between all of us, that even now years later it's just as strong as it were when she were alive to cultivate it. I pondered how she slept at night with this fear gnawing at her, or wondered if she ever had paranoia as I do about the smallest things.

I shared with her the fact that when the doctor's office called on Monday with no reason, that my heart literally jumped into my throat and I had flashbacks to the day I was told over the phone that I had cancer. I wondered if that fear will ever go away or just be numbed by time.

But most of all I reflected on how I didn't want to spend a holiday in the hospital and told her that in some small way I understood how she felt (NOTE: I am not demeaning her pain or experiences, just saying that on a small level, I understand more than I did before).

Now, I'm sitting here, typing away when I hadn't thought I had a single word to say. What I'm going to go through tomorrow is not terror filling as I would imagine Chemo to be or Radiation, but it is scary nonetheless. I feel calmer than I have in days and I like to think that my words shared with jessie were helpful in some way. In fact, I know they were because at some point tonight, sleep crept up on me and hugged me tightly, warmly, and accepted me in it's embrace. It wasn't the sleep of fear, but the sleep of gentle rest. Along with it came a feeling of calm and that's what I needed. I can only imagine how Jessie felt with her fears and what she was going through. But I know that I couldn't do this without her whispering at my ear, visiting me in my dreams and sending just the right people at just the right times, with just the right things to say to my side.

If my muse ever returns to me, I do have stories of things I've dreamt, letters i've composed and filed away under "incomplete" and short poems that I would share. But for now my muse remains silent under the weight of stress and daily life. She shares a silent cubicle with my voice who no longer sings (for many reasons) and together they work with my newly acquired coworker "Forced Menopause" who makes their silent life a living hell in the form of roller coaster emotion rides, sweats, and paranoia. But on occasion when I can finally empty out the negativity that wells up inside me, either through words to Jessie, conversations with Mark or various expressions with other people, the light shines through in the dark office building known as both my body and sometimes my heart.

Tonight, the light is soft, warm and inviting. And so I wanted to share that with you before sleep begged me to bed to give me dreams of a place I wish to be, with people I wish to be with, where there is no pain and no fear. I embrace sleep tonight, and as I do I find my thoughts turned to the readers of my blog. Even if you've stumbled upon this blog for the first time, I'm thinking of you too. And so in the fashion with which I *try* to live my life always, I wanted to send you all a wish:

I wish for you to have deep peaceful sleep tonight. I hope that you wake up calm, rejuvenated, able to smile, and ready to face your day. I hope and wish that this will make the start of your day better for you so you can make it better for someone else too. I wish that for all of you.

You are a blessing to me, everyday.

XO

(If I do get admitted updates will be posted here by the one you know as "Mr. Uber". Otherwise I'll post as soon as I'm able to.)