but you can never leave.
Going on day 8 in el hospital, my patience is beginning to wear thin. So are the site options for drawing blood from my arms. I had thought I was getting out. Yesterday. So by today I was all worked up. The neurologist had made a sensible case. The clot is "stable" and "not worsening" and I am "not presenting any symptoms." I agreed that I should go home. "Home" being a relative term. A brief text message discussion with the hematologist, conveyed through an envoy from his office, containing some fairly frank statements to the contrary arrived a few hours later and took the wind out of my sails. It also landed my butt back in the hospital bed. It was hard to argue with what he had to say. We are now looking at a reassessment on Friday. Oy.
Once I do break out of this joint we are looking at three weeks of outpatient therapy at a yet undisclosed location. Miami is looking like the prime candidate though. At this rate, our stuff will beat us to La Paz. Hopefully we don't just have to have them put it right back on the boat to come back here!
I actually feel just fine. Well, I'd like to shower more regularly, go outside, at least down the hall, and rip this IV out of my arm. But otherwise, I'm doing great. I even have to admit, the hospital food is not that bad. One night, we got cake with frosting and sprinkles on it. (It's the little things, ok?) For some reason beer is never one of the menu options.
