I don't know if I'll go home today or not. I desperately want to. The first night here I needed the hospital, I needed my fever and fluids and pain controlled continuously. And I was so sick and medicated that I wasn't all that aware of things anyway.
The second night was a maybe. I was still having a bit of pain, and one spike of fever.
But now I'm awake. I'm walking. I'm hydrated. I haven't had narcotics in 14 hours and my pain is entirely manageable. And I still don't know if I'm going home.
All the hospital is doing for me at this moment is running a very slow IV drip when I'm taking plenty by mouth, and making me spend most of my time in a bed that wasn't comfortable two days ago. Obviously I don't want to go home and get sicker, but I hate it here. I can't bend my right arm because of the IV and I have to drag the stupid pole everywhere and I can't wear normal-person clothes and they make me save all my piss and they keep doing painful things to me without even warning me and I can't fix my hair.
At least I have wonderful friends and lovers. Jack and Sprite and Rowdy came up last night and it made all the difference in the world. I was pretty strung out but I got to feel like a human being--emotions and sense of humor and outside life and all--for a couple hours. People dance the Macarena, they fold origami dinosaurs, they draw silly cartoons, they make filthy jokes, they bend the rules and they poke fun at each other. Instead of just having to sit in the back of my head like I was at a "while-U-wait" repair shop for my body.
I'm not 100% better. But I'm okay. I want this IV out of my arm. I want to wear jeans. I want to walk around on the street even if it hurts. I want to pet my guinea pigs. I want to fucking masturbate, for Chrissakes, I can't even get that done properly in here.
Maybe it'll be today. They're saying maybe. I'm really really hoping. I just want my body back.