I was just sitting here thinking about what a great thrill and privilege and honor it is to just clean your own kitchen. I mean, when the most urgent thing in your life for the next 10 minutes is to clean the kitchen, it can really make you happy… and filled with gratitude that you have a kitchen to clean.
Blaine has been through several weeks of serious illness…. and despite doctor visits and antibiotics and lots of love and care, he wasn’t getting better. In fact, he kept getting worse. Sometimes it would seem like he was getting a little better, but then things got worse again. It got really really bad. And unlike when it’s your young child who is sick and you just bundle them up and carry them to the ER or urgent care, when your child is a full grown autonomous adult, you have to get their permission and cooperation to go to a hospital, as long as they are conscious.
Part of the reluctance to go to the hospital is understandable. When one of the presenting problems is the horrific state of pressure sores on your butt, the prospect of sitting on said butt for six hours or more in the emergency room is kinda intolerable. Especially when you have extreme diarrhea that will be oozing out onto the floor in the waiting room. So we didn’t go to the ER, but to yet another clinic appointment, where Blaine finally agreed to enter the hospital. Thank you, Blaine, you saved not only your own life, but your mother’s as well. Ric’s too, probably.🙂
While hospitalized, we successfully treated some things along the way, but it took quite a few days to pin down the source of the continuing problem that kept showing up in new ways in different parts of the body. It was kind of a whack-a-mole situation. Treat one thing, see it start to get better, then another part sends out it’s storm troopers to attack on a new battlefield.
To cut to the chase, the doctors finally found a huge abscess that had walled itself off so antibiotics couldn’t get in and wage war with the storm troopers. Once they removed the abcess, the tide started to turn! And after it was clear the antibiotics were killing off the storm troopers, we got to come home!
And while the wound nurse and Blaine’s personal helper were here, I got to clean the kitchen. And though we have a long way to go to return everything to the way it used to be, goddammitohell, I couldn’t be happier if I won the frickin powerball.