When the cat gets stroppy, which happens quite a lot with Psycho Kitty, Zach, I often affectionately call him Mr Grumpy Pants. The past couple of days I've been doing the typical 'pets reflecting their owners' thing and have been Miss Grumpy Pants. I'm just sick of being in hospital now, and every little thing has been niggling me and making me tetchy. Poor W has got the brunt of it, which she really doesn't deserve, but more than that, I just feel naff when I'm grumpy. I get fed up with myself for being grumpy, and of course that makes me even more grumpy. Okay, so there's plenty of valid reason for me to be fed up, but I don't like feeling negative and miserable, and stroppy. I let a smidgen of it out much more appropriately earlier this evening by having a couple of dribbly tears on one of the nurses, but nothing very much. They're so lovely here on Ward 29 - let me feel however I feel, are genuinely interested in whatever those feelings are, and know exactly how to handle each individual occasion. So this evening I got a hug, a glass of milk, and chat time.
A little earlier I was talking with one of the other nurses about my desire (and need) to get home. I'd told the junior doctor I saw yesterday that I was hoping to get home at the end of the week, but she'd been very non-committal because apparently my white cell count is still a little high, indicating there's some residual infection. I've been so poorly this time, and had such a major set-back after an initial improvement, that the nurse today thought that maybe the doctors would be a little more cautious than usual about sending me home. None of us want me to have another flare-up of infection and bounce right back, but personally I think I'll be fine to be going home as I'm not spiking any temps or anything.
In a bid to make headway home I came off the oxygen late this morning and have been pottering around the room a bit more than I had. I've had one or two periods of puffiness, but nothing major and nothing that didn't settle easily enough. Although I really want to get home as soon as possible now, I've resigned myself to being here tomorrow, but I'm hopeful for Saturday. The nurse I spoke to about it this aftenoon thought that might be realistic enough, and hopefully the docs will think similarly when I see them in the morning. I should be seeing the registrar and the consultant (not my consultant as he's away this week, but one of the others who I know very well), and they're usually guided by how ready I feel for home, so I'm gunning for discharge on Saturday - just in time for fireworks :o) although I won't mention that to the docs ;oP
Don't worry, I won't go pushing to get home if the doctors really don't think I'm up to it, but my white count wasn't massively high, and I'd go to my GP at the first sign of any reappearance of infection. I do need to get home now though. Even if I get home on Saturday, it'll be almost four weeks since I was admitted, and there's only so much getting better one can do in hospital. A certain amount of recovery comes when you immerse yourself back into life, and anyway, hospitals are fantastic places for picking up more infections, even simple ones like the cold I got that caused the chest infection and set-back I had the other week.
Yes, I need to get home. I need my own space and own surroundings, and I need my cat. I need to be able to process all that's happened, get my head around how poorly I've been (the nurse I was talking to this evening said that she's been really scared for me this time, and have scared all the doctors too), and also have the opportunity to grieve for a friend who died last week. Rachy was someone I'd initially met through the discussion boards on the Asthma UK website, but had got to know her well through another group and then through text contact. We may never have met in person, but we were still friends, and I'm missing her. I won't say anything more about that for now, because it's all a bit too raw and unprocessed, but I thought I'd let you know that it's something going on for me, and is contributing to my upset and general grumpiness.
Now I should probably try to sleep. I haven't slept well for several nights with my mind working overtime, even though I've been really tired. It won't be any good me trying to persuade the SpR and the consultant that I'm okay to go home if I'm both grumpy and looking exhuasted.