Behaving Myself (There's A First Time For Everything) in The Everyday (A Diary Of Sorts)

I've been out of the hospital since Saturday afternoon, meaning that I've been home several days. Usually after a hospital stay I'm a bit out of it for a day or so, but not as badly or as long as I've been not with it this time around. The infection in my arm, plus the antibiotics used to fight it, have definitely taken their toll on me. I've slept most of the week away. This week has been for the most part, totally lost.

I lie down intending to nap only a half hour, and four hours later I wake up, wondering where the day went. Ugh.

Lucky, my cat, who weighs in at around fifteen pounds and possesses enough fur to cover at least three cats, has been a blessing to me. He hasn't let me out of his sight and at bedtime, he's right there on the pillow next to mine, purring up a storm. He's more affectionate than the average feline, which is rather nice, if you asked me. He's been my little watch-cat all week. I've had to leave the house a few times, mostly to go to dialysis, and he hasn't liked it one little bit, but he's getting better about my leaving the house. He's no longer so anxious about me going because this week I've been back before nightfall. Last week, he was all by himself, with the cleaning lady (whom he adores!) coming in to feed him and give him some attention. Though he likes her company (except when she runs the vacuum cleaner.) I know he missed me. He was beside himself with happiness when I finally returned after my stay in the hospital. It's nice to come home to someone who misses you and is overjoyed that you're back.

This laying low stuff, however; I need to quit that. No, I am not all better; I'm still on an antibiotic that I take twice a day, and we're still keeping an eye on the area that was infected. The antibiotic and what the infection did to me is bound to keep me a little under the weather, according to the doctor, and I need to be patient with myself and not rush back into the daily routine, but you know, I'm getting cabin fever (despite having been out of the house a few times this week.) and I want to be living my normal life, whatever my normal life might be.

Being sick really sucks.

I am grateful though. The infection could have been much worse. It could have spread, getting into my bloodstream and infecting other parts of me, including vital organs, which would have been very bad. People die from scenarios like that. I'm alive; the infection was caught before it could spread, and the only treatment I needed was massive antibiotics. Yes, the whole thing is a blessing. It's all good.

So I'll behave myself and do only what I can do for the time being, because I don't want to ruin the good luck (?) I've had so far. I risk babying myself, which I don't want to do, but I think I'm just impatient enough that I won't do that.

Life is good, even when it's not so good. Yes, that makes more sense than it sounds. I have to believe that, anyway. Ya gotta believe in something, after all.