|All 15 cases of it|
I was in the middle of doing my morning aerosols when there was a knock on my door. It's a good thing since I was in my monkey housecoat, looking hawt. Now there's the matter of figuring out where to put these suckers.
You're probably thinking, "what the H are feeds?". Over 2 years ago I stepped on the scale and came to the conclusion that it must be broken, however we soon realized it was intact and that I was in fact down to 101 lbs. Not sexy! Let's be real clear: I was/am practically malnourished. How many times have I heard "How do you stay so nice and thin"? It's sad really.
During my stint in the ICU I withered away to 101 lbs. Apparently, I just laid there in bed - lazy, eh? You think I could've done squats or something. So when I reached 101 again, I freaked. I placed an emergency call to my dietitian, who recommended a g-tube. The g-tube (my feeds) gives me 1175 calories per night. This has allowed me to get up to 110 lbs and maintain it.
I still eat, like a "normal" person, but I have a tremendous struggle with my appetite and can't consume enough calories to neither gain nor maintain weight, plus I burn lots of calories through my lousy breathing. My feeds are consumed overnight, so I get to listen to not just the hum of the O2 concentrator, but also the whirling of my feed pump.
How many of you can eat and sleep at the same time??
This morning Brad went for a haircut at the Toronto Aveda Institute (which is much cheaper than most places and still a haircut with an experienced hairstylist is $40, and with an educator - $65 & up!) Of course, there's talking involved during a cut and Brad told them our story. One of the instructors told Brad that if I come for a haircut I will get the "royal treatment". Yup guys, all you have to do to be treated like that is get yourself on an organ transplant list.
I met up with Brad to hop on the streetcar and then transfer to the subway to get to TGH, as today I had transplant clinic. It only makes sense that we would enter the subway on the wrong side of the street and head off going the wrong way. Once we realized our mistake, we jumped off and grabbed yet another streetcar (after me taking 10 years to climb the subway stairs).
Oh TTC, stop playing with me!
Finally, we reached the hospital and went straight to Starbucks. Priorities people!! Coffee is extremely important to me...kinda like breathing...yup, exactly like breathing.
Transplant clinic was great, I've heard that you can wait for a hour or so to see a doc, but not this chick, not today! Most likely they heard about my amazing physical aptitude in physio and just had to meet me. Brad and I had a bejeweled tournament (that I won as usual) while we were waiting, then saw an awesome doctor and we were out the door.
We stopped in at the transplant centre to inquire about where to find an IV pole in this city (for my feeding tube). I have had zero luck. The cost to buy one up here is triple that of the cost in NS. Yuck. We were told to check with the ER about borrowing one.
So off we go down the street with a gigantic IV pole. We grab a cab (as there's no way we could do the subway) and drive through the city with the thing sticking out the window. Classy.
The concierge is going to start thinking that I'm running a pharmacy upstairs.