Lotsa rest for the Weary

I had a freaking fabulous time with two of my besties last weekend. Love you guys!

Rasha left yesterday, in the rain, at noon. Heather, the G-man and I walked her to the shuttle pickup (hotel across the street) and came back with soggy paws.

The adrenaline rush that started when Red's grinning face popped through the door, came crashing down around me, leaving me a ghost of my former glorious self. 

I knew in that moment, that if I wanted to return to the land of the living, that my bed made of pillows was the only option. I extracted myself from the floor and inserted myself in said bed.

I stayed there from noon yesterday until this morning. I alternated between sleep, texting Brad, reading, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember who I was and why I was in bed, reassuring Heather that I was still alive, and talking to Cletus.

I woke today, realized my eyeballs were still not back to normal (along with the rest of me) and desperately tried to make it night time again, but alas, the damn sun stayed exactly where it was. I wanted to forget that today I had to leave the condo and actively participate in the world.

After scarfing down a bagel and 13 cups of java, the neurons in my brain started firing once again, and I felt less and less like a walking mannequin.

I had my first Wednesday physio (as I was asked to change my Fridays to Wednesdays). It went well, although Heather wouldn't let me transform the treadmill into a bed like I wanted. Not sure why?

I had to cut physio a bit short (still crying over that) due to transplant clinic. It was really sad, as I had just started to record a workout video that would have rivaled any of Suzanne Summers'.

Red kicks and all

Transplant clinic...

I finally had to wait for hours like the others. Apparently, word about my awesomeness hasn't spread as wide as one would think. I had the sweetest resident. I think...or really I'm not sure what to think. We had our little chat where she asks me what meds I'm on and then writes a novel, we talked about my infection, she asked me how I've been feeling (energy level and all that), and then she says she has to confer with the other doc and she'll be right back.

The resident walks back in, sits down and says, "I've talked to Dr. Whatshisname and we feel you are relatively stable and unfortunately there's nothing we can do but wait for some lungs."

Ummmmmmmmm....yaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

Wha????

You mean to tell me that I don't get to come in here, put my feet up, drink some coffee, browse through a catalogue and pick out a new, pink, uncrusty set of windbags??????

Well I never.

Happily, I am still a status 2. Happily, I am still happily waiting for my new blowers, upon which I will live happily ever after.


Click here for a cool video on organ donation.