When the Parade Passes By....

I've come to the conclusion that the only hospital you can get a restful stay in is rehab.

Since yesterday, my room has been a revolving parade of doctor-visitors and hospital personal. Don't get me wrong; it's nice to feel important but when one sleeps in 45-minute increments, the last thing I am is pleasant. Truthfully, I'm not always pleasant on a full night of sleep, so obviously this is intolerable. I kid you not: yesterday an hour did not go by that someone wanted to talk to me about prescription meds, my mental state, my religious state, my symptoms, and my feelings.

Eventually my oncologist told everyone to go away and let me take a nap. Bless her.

Last night b/c of all the fluids I'm on through chemo, I was up every 30 to 45 minutes. Eventually at 5:30 a.m. I gave up and watched "Murder She Wrote" instead of trying to sleep. And then vitals started. Every two hours. And more talking about meds.

And then I got chewed out when I wasn't hungry. And the doctor told me not to take naps.

Yes, I am bitching today. I'm tired and crabby and waiting for Saturday night/Sunday morning to get released, which I am looking forward to of all things.

Before then though, I have to learn to give myself injections, and my head started itching, which according to my doc means my hair will probably start falling out sooner rather than later.

I'm thinking of an Emma Watson pixie cut and some stunning stilletos. Cancer's no reason to lose one's sense of style.

I've also developed a craving for bologna sandwiches and cheesesticks. Not very Emma Watson, but nothing's perfect. I can't decide if it's classier than all the pudding I'm eating...