A friend reminded me of something today. I miss Steve, he’s always been honest and direct. I hadn’t seen him for years until today. He reminded me of my commitment to write no matter how I feel. So here goes…
I should be excited. My MELD number has gone down to 11. That really is good. It means I’m no longer on the fast track of new liver or die. I want to be pumped. Truth is, I’m struggling with depression. I feel bad for feeling bad.
The fatigue, the cramping, the muscle aches are scaring me. I attended a fourth of July parade and had to use a wheelchair. That sucked. I’m sorry if that word offends you. If I were writing what I truly thought of it, I’d use some words I never use. And that, in itself, makes me feel bad.
Last Tuesday I was in the hospital again. 101.5 temp, swelling, intense pain. X-ray, pain meds, an IV and blood tests. The verdict? Pneumonia. Same old, same old. More antibiotics. I wanted to scream!
My feet look like I should be riding shotgun to Fred Flinstone.
Next weekend I might spend Saturday at the Soulfest music festival at Gunstock Mountain. I’ll be riding on a motorized mobility chair. I’m excited to go but am dreading the looks. I’ve not thought well of the 400 pound guys cruising Disney. Are people going to think that of me? Payback is …
My cramps and aches always happen at night. Wednesday night I went to bed at 5 AM.
I apologize for this whiny post. I hate it. I am a positive guy. I’m so tired of not feeling well. I’m tired of not sleeping. I hate my muscles. I dread night.
God is good. I know it. I believe it. Still, I’ve taken the “Why me” detour this month. I don’t like the scenery on this road at all. I need to get back on track.
My Next post will be positive stuff. There’s been lot’s of good stuff.