Being sick sucks!

Last October, I had the honor of an extended stay in the hospital. No, it wasn't for mental dementia, although I'm sure there are some out there who feel I need that stay as well. It was for Diverticulitis. What is Diverticulitis? Well, I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt it is NOT something divers get from tickling otters. I am sure of this. Mostly. Definitely. It is in fact inflammation and swelling of the colon and surrounding areas resulting in a shut down of the inner workings. Sounds painful huh? It is. 

At first I thought ( because for those of you who may not know, I am medically trained ...cue the eye rolls), I had kidney stones. That's the area that hurt, and it seemed most likely. It got worse. Rest is not always best when averaging a fever of 102 and breaking out in skin rashes and hives. When you fall asleep in a bath tub, the water has turned cold ( I swear I saw an iceberg float by) and it is the best sleep you have had in days, it is time to seek professional help. 

So seek I did, with the help of my chauffeur Mom. After a trip to InstaCare, and being told " WOW, you're really sick, you should go to the E.R.", that's where we went. It turned out I had Diverticulitis. A disease if you will that strikes 4 million people each year. Last October however, I am beyond positive I got enough for at least half that number of people all at once. Definitely. Maybe. 

I was immediately ( after a 6 hour wait in the E.R.) whisked away to my own private room. At this time Capt. Morphine and I were buds. I haven't smiled that much since reading my own blogs ( like how I snuck that in there?) . I was promptly starved to within an inch of my life. In order to, as the doctor put it, "restart my system", I was given nothing but ice chips and broth for 4 days. People in Cuban jails eat better. The staff was great, and dutifully put up with my constant nagging/requests for streak and cheese sandwiches with the works from East Coast Subs. I even offered to buy ( it was the morphine talking). Alas, they continued with the torture that was bland broth and lukewarm ice chips. They even instructed me to get out and walk around, asking me to visit other floors knowing full well there were trays of sandwiches, cheetos, fruit, pasta in some sort of sauce ( when you're hungry, it doesn't matter), and other delectable treats and goodies. I told the nurses honestly if I had pockets in my hospital gown, I would be stealing food. She just laughed. People never take you seriously when you're sick. 

I was released 14 months ( it seemed that long o.k.?) later and told " Don't jump start your system by eating anything that is good for you, has taste, calories, actual substance, or isn't broth or lukewarm ice chips". O.k., not really, but I was told not to eat anything fatty, spicy, fried, or not bland. So my first description was spot on, thank you. I recovered for a few days at the parents house, as I was positive the papparrazzi was seeking me out for an interview. No, the morphine was not still talking. It was a relaxing time, and I was just happy to be out. After all, the last 6 days my excitement consisted of watching LifeFlight take off and land. My bed was right out on the tarmac you see. D'Oh! No, I was on the tenth floor of the Intermountain Medical Center and Torture Clinic in Murray. 

To those reading, I wouldn't wish this on anyone. It was an expensive and painful reminder at how awesome food is. I have a new found love of it. I lost 10 lbs. in the torture clinic, but promptly gained it back once my system was restarted. I also came out with a new found respect for those who go without. If by some odd chance my writing ever makes me rich and famous, not likely, but if, I would love to help out in some way. It seems the right thing to do. 

To all those reading, thank you. To the nursing staff at IMC, you guys ROCK !!!. Nothing but good wishes and good health to you all.

P.S., I could not have made it through this ordeal without the wonderful support of friends and My dear Rose. Love you sweetie ! Her daily phone calls kept me goin.  Brandon