5 Days Down

Still hanging out in my "hotel room" at the hospital, and we’re on Day 6 of battling this pesky virus while juggling the sarcoid meds.

Since I’m in isolation because of the infection and my low immunity, I’ve got my own room with a private bathroom. I can hear all the chaos, screaming, and tantrums happening outside my door, and I honestly don’t know how the nurses handle it all day. Major props to them for their patience, especially since they’re so understaffed—not an easy gig.

My days are filled with working on my laptop between blood tests, taking meds, getting my vitals checked, and having doctors pop in. Mornings are when I feel the most energetic, and I really push myself, but then I hit a wall in the afternoon that’s tough to bounce back from. I’ve got to learn to take it easy, and I can already hear my friends chuckling at that. Some folks have suggested I try meditating, but my mind races like a middle-aged, anxious Jewish mom worrying about everything. The image of my grandma Esther trying to meditate cracks me up because she’d never focused on herself—she’d be too busy worrying about everyone else’s lives, from their meals to their driving habits, and they say I'm her clone.

Today, a group of staff members walked into the room while I was just lounging in a chair with my laptop, asking about the patient. I seriously can’t believe they mistook me for a family member, especially considering my current state—no shower for days (thank goodness for deodorant, wipes, and dry shampoo), no bra, hair all messy, and my face and body are super red! Being in the ICU at 41 makes me stand out. Most of the other patients are over 85… it honestly bums me out a bit. I’m way too young for this, and why do I have to be the “Hot Pink Unicorn” with Bone Sarcoidosis?! It really makes you question everything, not to dive into the whole “god” thing and everyone’s beliefs, but if there is one, how, who, what, and why?! Is there any sense to this chaos? I think dealing with pain every day makes you ponder the deeper aspects of our world.

These hospital experiences really remind me to appreciate the little things—like bickering with my teenage daughter, watching my 4-year-old zoom around on his bike, and of course, my cozy bed, a closet packed with fresh clothes, and the ability to refill my water bottle anytime I please. But if I’m being real, what I miss the most is my wonderfully chaotic life. Sure, I complain about it sometimes and need a breather, but their crazy antics and the everyday madness always keep me laughing and making memories.

The team is considering two more nights, so for now, I’m just pushing through, like all us moms do. We keep moving because our kids rely on us. They need to know we’re alright, even when things are tough. My kids want me home and ask me about it several times a day. So, my main goal is to get back to my home, my heart, and a bit of my sanity.