At least it's an ethos.

Sickbed thoughts, part four.

When I got my gallbladder out it was meant to be, let’s say, the end of an era. No more hospital gowns, no more sedation, no more scans, just healing up and moving on. I felt a little sad about it in a way that’s hard to explain. Nobody wants to be going into the hospital but it was comfortable. It was a routine. It’s nice to just sort of wink into absolute darkness for a bit. If you are stuck in the hospital there is plenty that is annoying, and then a lot that’s just boring, but you kind of know what to do. You read your book, you nap, you eat, you let the nurse wake you up to draw your blood and so on.

But then I didn’t heal up exactly as I was supposed to, I was still more sick than I should have been, and thus: scans again, including the new-to-me experience of an MRI. Scans revealed that my necrotic mass either came back or never went away (conflicting information on this front), and it’s getting bigger, which is bad. So off I go to get sedated again, the precise experience I was…