My eyes slowly open and I pray in bed. Today, it was for 2 hours. Slowly, ever so slowly, I gently get up to go to the restroom. Along the way down the hall, I walk with my head to my knees. So I won't stand up and then faint.
I drank 600 ml carbonated water with potassium in it, and proceeded to brush my teeth. Can you brush your teeth? If I hit the wrong spot and/or look at the wrong thing, I start to revolt. My stomach spasms tightly, then I can feel the pathway of vomiting, coming along down its way. Today, I threw up. Then I threw up. Then I threw up again. Then I washed my face. All during this time, I tried to call for help. I had one leg up on the countertop, to balance myself so I wouldn't fall while vomiting. Weakly, at first, I cried out for help. Again I cried out. After about 10 times, I finally got some one in our house to help me. Slowly, gently, I lay back down in bed.
Drank more fluids. Hands shaking. Thinking of looking at the toothbrush makes me feel like gagging, so I move the trash can closer to my face.
I don't want to eat. I don't want to take medications. I don't like wearing Jobst Stockings. I certainly do not like sleeping or laying in bed all day. But I do what I have to do. It is what it is. So I deal with it. I just deal with it. One day at a time, one minute at a time. I deal.
So after about 2 hours, I get up to stumble to my baby's cry, and the pit of my stomach stays in check. I just want to take one shower without any one here. Alone. No caregiver. I wonder what it will feel like, getting into a shower and turning the water on. I want to feel warm beads of water going down my back; of all the things to miss, this is what I miss the most: smelling good. Urinary incontinence does not help out here much, neither does fainting in the shower. Thank God hope is in sight.