So much has happened that I genuinely do not know what to write, how to explain how I feel about it all.

A part of me wants to document each and every moment, while the rest of me wants to forget forever what has happened. I went into the hospital for day surgery and embarked on a journey of ill health that just doesn't seem to want to end. I was in a horrible hospital twice. The first time I was there, I had three different asthma attacks where I had to use my own inhalers. The third was the worst, and I ended up in pulmonary arrest. I stopped breathing. Just before, I was struggling for air while three hospital staff stood around and debated whether or not I had asthma since it was not in my chart...even though I had told both the pre-admission nurse and the admitting nurse that I did. If I had not brought my own medicines to the hospital, I would have most likely died.

For three days, I had no sleep. For 11 days, I was not able to eat. I lost 20 lbs, but have gained back 5 of them. I was so weak, which combined with an MS flare-up, made it difficult to walk. I have missed so much of my temporary job, lost out on a second interview for a permanent job, and lost a tutoring job that was quite lucrative.

I was in a hospital that was clearly battling transfer-of-care issues and was clearly not safe. I made a decision to leave on my own because of the egregious care, but the criticism I have received from those in my life for doing so has hurt far more than being treated so poorly by those who were supposed to be looking out for my well-being.

I am still tired, still weak, and still ill. The last visit to the pulomonologist ended up with her suspecting I have pulmonary hypertension. Of course, the main tests to confirm that tentative diagnosis use iodine, and I am allergic to shellfish. I wanted to talk about my asthma, about what happened in the hospital, but she is more concerned with the sinkable episode I had there (that is what they call fainting these days) and the shortness of breath I experience whenever I exert myself, such as with inclines, stairs, or carrying heavy things. I desatted in her office (my oxygen saturation dropped while I was there), and she practically acted as if I were going to keel over right before her. I can understand her concern, but I just don't care anymore. Fainting does not bother me. Neither does huffing and puffing.

Instead, I want better control of my asthma, because I am tired of waking up coughing or launching into an attack at the merest wisp of smoke wafting my way, I want something that will note that I am asthmatic so that medical personal will not dispute that again, and I want to know what four drugs I was given the day of the surgery so that I can never have that combination again.

Enough of that, though, because the tears start falling again when I think of how scared I was and how horrible I felt with phone call after phone call of questions that criticized my actions and doubted my condition.

I did managed to clean the house today for the first time in a month. When B was here to help out and then later W, I cringed at how dirty it was. The broken vacuum cleaner didn't help. But worse was the inches thick layer of dust, the dirty laundry, the filthy floors, the less-than-clean bathrooms, and the general grossness of my home.

Of course, I had to stop twice for naps in order to get the job done. I vacuumed alone for over two hours and sucked up six canisters worth of dirt, dog hair, and other undesirable stuff from the floors (Despite the rather dire financial situation I now find myself within, I broke down and got a vacuum). The dust is gone. The floors are clean. The bathrooms are clean. The laundry is done. The kitchen is clean. The dishes are done. The basement beds have been remade. The only task I have left is to move the boxes I had been collecting to the attic since I won't be moving any time soon. However, I did not attempt this yet because I am not sure I have the strength to hoist myself up through the opening while standing on the ladder.

Yesterday, I slowly moved all the books and the bookcase that was still in my living area back to the basement. I figure that it will be next to forever before I get my shoemolding (quarter round) put down, and having the living area so crowded drove me crazy. While I did manage to get everything down there, I had to spend the rest of the evening on the couch recovering. This morning, I put the books into the case. I also put out the photos and dresser items back out for the same reason. At least the basement looks almost back to normal.

Although the grass is doing a mighty job of growing, I am currently spared from mowing the lawn because my blasted lawnmower broke at the beginning of this week when I tried to attack the eight-inch high prairie that was my yard. I finished with the weed-whacker, but since I used up the rest of my line, I won't be doing that again anytime soon. I couldn't find another electric mower locally, so I ordered it from Amazon. I fear the grass will be quite high before it arrives in a week or so...