Two weeks is a long time.
This is by far my longest hospital stay of the four I've had since the end of March. Tomorrow, May 31st, will mark two weeks. I've been through four roommates, daily chest X-rays, CT scans, and countless chest tube boxes, and no doubt thousands of dollars.
The physical update is that things are looking much better, and the second surgery that they feared was absolutely necessary a week ago has been indefinitely postponed. They have decided to stop flushing the lung every six hours to see how I handle that. My kidneys have shown vast improvement, and my blood sugars are back on track. So, we're continuing to watch the lung and the infection. Hopefully, I will be sent home in a couple days, most probably with a chest tube and possibly a penicillin pump and a visiting nurse.
But it beats this.
I have written a lot in the past about the passage of time. But it usually had to do with how old I felt I was getting. This is a little different. I have not left this hospital (Hell, barely this room) in two weeks. It's humbling to say the least. I have come to grips with the fact that I will not wake up tomorrow and it be miraculously cured and have this never have happened. But that is just the way it goes.
Mostly, I am learning that there are only so many ways to pass the time. Books, internet, Netflix streaming. The Red Sox recent hot streak. All great boons for sure. I'd go insane without them. But in the end, it is just me and my thoughts. Honestly? The small talk with the guys who bring me to my chest X-rays has gotten old. The hospital menu? Old. Any sort of hospital humor? Old. This is not me being bitter, either. This is the reality we live in. The Royal Wedding was a big deal, and that got old, too. Things get old and people move on. Except when they can't actually go anywhere or do anything.
I've heard from a lot of people how great a job I am doing dealing with this. I never really know how to respond, because I don't think I'm doing anything extraordinary. This is reality, and this is what you do when it kicks you in the teeth. What was my alternative? Off the deep end? Suicide? Clearly, This is a new storyline on the Matt Dursin Show, and this is how it is being written. But as far as what goes on between the scenes, well, that is the part I'm having the most trouble dealing with.