Hi.
Yes, I have been avoiding you.
It's because I want to write and tell you how great Mitch is doing and how he is home, but he is not. So I have to just come clean.
He is still having major swelling issues and also now, blood clots in neck and axillary areas.
The clots were just discovered so they may have been there the whole time, but still, now there is another IV bag hanging from the IV pole and it's name is Heparin, the evil blood thinner... He will have to be on blood thinners for a while and I am not sure how long he needs the IV blood thinner. The IVs are evil because they are preventing Mitch from coming home. I really really miss having him at home, and the boys ask every day when he is coming home. He needs the IV lasix too, to reduce the swelling so that is another culprit keeping him here. He is even using oxygen a little again because of the fluid causing him to be short of breath.
He has been feeling awful about half of the time and managing the other half. I cannot imagine- well yes, I can imagine because I have been witnessing Mitch live through this- But I can not actually experience or know what Mitch must feel like after living in the hospital for the past - almost 6 weeks. I know others have experienced this and some much longer, so in a way he is lucky, some might say- its all relative- but
I do not consider this a lucky experience for someone to have.
Every time i walk into the hospital, I become aware that Mitch has been here in my absence, while I have been able to leave and experience life outide these walls; the walls of this insitution we call a hospital. Life with the boys- be outside, see nature, sleep in a real bed, be free, and he has still been here, in his hospital room of flourescent lights, blue chairs, and white walls.
We were conversing yesterday about how time in the hospital is similar to serving time in prison. There are pros and cons to both- in prison you are not sick, but then again, you don't get any drugs- well, without seeking them, that is... In the hospital you have a television in your room, and a more comfortable bed. Hospital room has a window but it can't open and it looks at a concrete wall. In jail, no window, or maybe a small one- some can even see the sky... so that is even, i think. Food is about the same but I can't attest to either. In prison, you get to go outside, exercise, and you feel better, I presume. In prison, you have friends. In the hospital, all your "friends" have to wear a contact gown and sterilize their hands and sometimes wear a mask to see you. In the hospital you can not leave the floor or go outside without a nurse or let's face it-
prison guard, coming with you. In both places, you lose a lot of dignity, but you can gain it back.
In the hospital, you are subjected to many methods of torture and witness to your body manifesting in scary and horrific ways; needles, procedures, test after test, etc. In the hospital and prison, you idealize of when you will not be there anymore, but you are unsure of when that will be exactly.
Of course, there are obvious discernible differences, and mentioning them would be a waste of our time, but you see what I mean.
No freedom in illness... Yet, he is lucky to be alive, he is lucky to have gotten a second chance- that much is true. Mitch says the days and weeks blur together. He doesnt talk obsessively about leaving or what he wants to do; he doesn't feel good enough yet.
I hope I can write very soon telling you he is home, or at least that he is thinking about days outside of these walls.