Scully, we never escaped.

Sickbed thoughts, part two.

Mulder holds Scully's hand.

After two weeks and a day in the hospital, I am now sprung. This is mostly encouraging and then a little bit frightening—encouraging because I’m getting better, frightening because the pain management options are not as good. When you haven’t yet gone a day without needing some kind of intervention and you leave with ten pills that are weaker than what you had in the hospital in the first place (and which didn’t always work), it doesn’t feel great.¹

The problem that landed me in the hospital is something that’s been a problem for me since 2019—essentially, extreme pain and vomiting that had no clear dietary or behavioral triggers—which became less of a problem in 2020 and then steadily came roaring back until, well, I had to call an ambulance. (Or rather, was bullied into calling the ambulance by a friend; thanks, friend.) I don’t really intend to discuss the specifics of what’s going on here, but one of the frustrations of the last two weeks is that I’d actua…