Someone (I won't make my husband feel bad by mentioning any names) recently told me that a two week hospital stay sounds like it'd be a two week vacation. "Lying around, sleeping in, watching TV all day."
Now, admittedly, I don't get out very often but from what I recall, vacations don't usually include so many needles. I also don't think I've ever been on a vacation where someone woke me up at two hour intervals to ask about my bowel movements. Other things I don't generally associate with vacation: mandatory workouts, 5:00 am blood draws, crying for an hour over missing my baby, adverse reactions to antibiotics, being so drugged up that I can't function for two days straight (well, there was that one time in Mexico...) (I'm kidding, Mom!).
The point is, the hospital is not my idea of a vacation.
Today I didn't feel very well. I haven't had an appetite since I was admitted and just the thought of food has made me nauseous. Thank the meds for that. I also started the day with a headache that could be attributed to the meds, or possibly the extremely low blood pressure I've been having.
My friend, Holly, came to visit with her adorable boys and I spent a large portion of the day talking to her from under the covers in my bed. At one point we took a (somewhat lengthy) walk to The Point Restaurant at the Huntsman Center only to find that it was closed, so we turned right back around and headed to the hospital cafeteria. I was actually able to eat a little bit of rice, which is the most solid food I've eaten all day. It was nice to have visitors and having some food in my tummy made me feel much better.
Earlier tonight Holly texted me, asking where today's blog post was.
Me: I'm too busy lying around and eating bon bons... apparently.
Holly: I know, I watched you do that all day today. I'll testify to Adam about it.
Me: You're supposed to be on my side. Tell him how I was forced to walk all over creation before I was allowed to eat a tiny bit of rice.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my bon bons.