I despised all of these medical sidesteps; I just wanted to live a normal life. I knew that I didn’t want to become a hypochondriac, but how can someone who personally experienced all that I did be okay with the knowledge that – at any moment – this could all come crashing down?
I had it fairly easy as a kid all things considered, but I consumed food like an opulent King every single day and luckily, my body was able to bounce back. Only until it was literally able to bounce.
Even then, I hardly exercised and my life goals were minimal. At what point would the other shoe drop? Well, it turned out that point was at age eighteen when my life had been reset. I was now left picking up the pieces of my old way of living and aimlessly looking for a new puzzle frame.
Ever since my battle with cancer, memories were something that I was compelled to create in abundance. Those memories didn’t need to be tied intrinsically to monumental moments in my life but also derived from simple things such as melodies and quiet nights at home. This next memory, however, involved an event of middling proportions: the departure from my very first home rental… and return to living with my parents.
The New Year was here, my fungal infection was officially gone, and I was on the fourth treatment of six. Things were going great, as long as I kept myself preoccupied as much as possible.
TV did the trick for some of the day, as the usual Price is Right, Friends, Wheel/Jeopardy schedule couldn’t be broken, but I had to find creative ways to fill the rest– Aw, who am I kidding?! I had a freaking Gamecube now!
Wow, what a Christmas! Not only did my family surround me at every turn, but I also received a substantial amount of presents. My Dad even bought me my very own Gamecube!
Now, all of the games that have kept me sane over the past few months could be at my fingertips at a moment’s notice. No longer would I have to share my distraction from thoughts of boredom or death; I would have my very own game console to do that for me!
I sat in my hospital bed in Room 864 (the new gold standard), watching the IV drip poison into my chest. The machine gears sounded off with grunts and cracks. Unfortunately, that meant it was working as designed.
Be forewarned: It’s another TMI chapter like Chapter 9. So pretty much, anytime you see a clip from South Park… It’s going to get dirty.
One of the things they don’t stress upon beginning an elongated stay in a hospital is how “backed up” you get while on medication. Yes, they mention it – and everyone reacts differently to various medications – but wow, this was bad.
My legs were getting worse. I couldn’t stand up without that same unbearable pain shooting up and down my legs. I had to get into just the right position to be somewhat comfortable, even while hopped up on morphine.
I needed something to do; I was getting stir crazy and normal television wasn’t cutting it– hell even the PS2 wasn’t cutting it anymore. As much as I loved this new room, 864, there wasn’t anything to do.