Physically I am better. This weekend I felt like a human pin cushion but the end result is improved health. My blood work is great given the fact I have two open wounds hooked up to a wound vacuum. I am largely done castigating myself, content now to move forward. It is the moving forward that worries me. I am concerned first and foremost about the cost of home care. The bed I bought cost as much as a car, a very nice new car, a luxury import. Wound care is covered by insurance. The wound vacuum, I must rent and the company is interested in one thing--two weeks payment inadvance. It does not take much thought to realize the next few months are going to be frightfully expensive. All decry the health care system, acknowledge I am gettng screwed and then add the proviso there is nothing we can do. Sadly they are correct. My health insurance sucks and I have no other options. What haunts me is what happens to others that do not have a large and supportive family. Where do they go? What do they do under identtical circumstances? In short, I know I am lucky. Howver this does not change the fact I havee been in the same room for twelve days and my spirits are low.
Coping with boredom over the weekend was hard. Crappy novels and football are distracting but for only a while. Hence much of last night was spent crying. I just could not help myself. I was also smart enough to wait until it was very late so I could cry in peace. The hospital I am in is very patient oriented and I am often asked about pain and if I am depressed. I try to tell them, hell yes I am depressed, is that not a normal reaction. Such honesty results in a suggestion a psychiatrist make a visit. Great, is he or she going to make me heal any faster or solve the financial implications of my wounds? Don't get me wrong--if I suspected I were clinically depressed I would seek help. But I am down for damn good reasons and a good cry may have helped me. I am functioning but just sad and worried. I get home Thusday assuming the bed arrives as promised. I am sure my spirits will soar when I get home. I miss my black lab Kate and am tired of hospital life. I also realize when I get home that my soaring spirit will be confronted by a harsh reality--i will be bed bound for months, utterly dependent upon others. This fact more than any other bothers me the most. I simply have not been dependent upon others since I was a morbidly sick child. This is a state I have never wanted to repeat. It is my hope that with the help pf my family I can get through this unscatthed. No wonder I am worried.