Dear Lindsay Lohan

Eat.

For the love of God, please...eat. Eat something other than your cig butts or used match sticks. Stop washing them down with Red Bull. I am getting tired of watching you deteriorate faster than Clay Aiken's career. I don't even really want to discuss your seemingly bizarre sexuality. You are as lost as Mike Vick at the humane society. If nothing else...grab a Jr. Bacon cheeseburger at any fast food joint for a buck. Hell, get two tacos for 99 cents. I fear that a wind could possibly take you far, far away.

Wait...no, this is bad. Have some lipids and wash it down with some Crisco. Put something back on your bones other than freckled skin. FYI....some freckles are OK. I now know where all of the sun spots have gone. Thin is in I guess but you are more than thin. You are the richest P.O.W. I have ever seen. People who starve themselves just aren't smart. Of course, seeing your movie script choices explains a lot about how manhole covers are NOT something you need to be walking close to.

People that look like you suffer from one of three things. First, they have an eating disorder. I am not sure if you are getting back at your parents by only eating bearded clam and drinking Red Bulls for all of the times they drug you to camp as a kid. Maybe that isn't the problem. Maybe you are #2...a drug addict? The difference between you and Amy Winehouse is at least you wipe your nose before saying hello to the paparazzi. Maybe you just suffer from dysentery, the third reason you currently rival a Sudanese mother of 14. Whatever the reason, all of the above require some sort of medical intervention. You have bucks. Hell, you can get this taken care of real fast. Ever seen the movie "Super Size Me?" Best movie ever. Better than "Parent Trap," or "Georgia Rule," or any of the other shallow, meaningless drivel that you have made throughout your movie "career."

Please, take a break from making my eyes bleed and eat. Do us all a favor so we can actually start considering you a 3D human. That would really make my day.

It Could Be Worse

Things could be worse. They could be a WHOLE LOT worse. Every morning, I go to Kadlec at 9:30AM for IV antibiotics. I go into the Outpatient Procedure office in the hospital, check in and am brought back into this horseshoe of about 9 rooms. Some are filled with recovering outpatient surgery folks. Others are there, I imagine, for treatments like mine. But in all reality, I have it pretty easy. I listen to people moaning in pain. I listen to rapid heart rates and nurses who are trying to empathize with patients telling them that having a catheter is just going to predispose the patient to possible infection. i remember that feeling. I remember the first day in the hospital needing assistance to pee in one of those plastic milk jugs because I couldn't do it alone. I PRAYED for a catheter, more or less so I could salvage some dignity. Wearing that gown is enough. I would have loved to simply pee on my own.

I have it pretty easy. I sit there. I sit there in silence sipping on my 7 ounce cup of water that I am graced with. The treatment is 45 minutes and I get to leave afterwards. I don't have to do anything but show up. I have a central line, inserted in the side of my bicep and the line is fed through a vein down towards my aorta. It is about 3 or 4 feet of fibrous tubing with 3 snake-like ports that dangle out of moy arm. Along with the luxury of ease of use for the antibiotics, it makes drawing blood easy. A phlebotomist is not allowed to touch me, which is great news being the last phlebotomist that did busted a vein in my hand because she was retarded. Maybe not legally, however, in my mind, I was glad she never came back.

What has all of this taught me? That is the $60,000 question. I suppose I always figured I would live forever. Like my Dad, I was going to be this young, virile male forever. With everything that happens in your life that cannot be controlled, it is imperative to control the things you can. The human body is a fascinating machine, really. It rights itself with sickness, only after doing everything it can to fix itself on its own. I was one point away from Kidney failure. I was close to dialysis. I was close to the kidneys simply shutting down. I gained 25 pounds in 2 weeks on a liquid diet. How does that happen? My body was retaining everything I was putting in, even if it was jello and broth. Low calories, low sodium, no excretion. That poses a problem. Brief explanation of GFR. Renal function is a number on a blood test. Anything lower than 15 is kidney failure. They like the number to be 60 and above. May 8, the day I was discharged, my number was 16. May 11, it was 22. Yesterday, it was 49. My kidneys work again. I lost the 25 pounds within a few days of coming home. Of course, it was at about 800 cc at a time. My bladder hates me.

Yes it could be worse. It could me much worse. Today is a new day. Just like tomorrow will be. I take care of what I can with each passing day. My hope is that the people I love do the same.

Stuff

'Tis the season of allergens! At least, that is what I hear. Having had several incisions in my abdomen over the last several weeks that are constantly on the mend, I must say that sneezes are not a welcome addition to my life right now. Sneezes hurt. There is nothing comfortable about them. Normally, I can sense a sneeze from a mile away. Over the last couple of days, however, I have had that "parent sneeze." You know the sneeze I am talking about. One moment you are inhaling and exhaling as usual and then **BAM**, here comes the sneeze on the exhale. Two of them, back to back, like TNT. I am having those. I hate those.

A while ago, I was worried about bowel movements. Not so much anymore, but now I have to be careful of sharting myself with these rogue sneezes. They come at the most inopportune times. Its like farting in church. You don't want to because there seems to be an unholy glow about those that pass gas close to an altar that all can see. People know that when there is an audible fart at the same time as a sneeze, the "shart waddle" is soon to follow. I guess that is what nurses are for....changing dirty bed linens. Not that I did that. I saw that on Grey's Anatomy recently I think.

It is good to be home. The kids make the hospital seem like a Sandal's Resort on occasion. The puppy (a Shitzu/Chihuahua mix) needs a good grave. Gus, the bullie seems to be glad I am home and loves the smell of scar tissue. I am back to doing the dishes and cooking the occasional meal as my body will allow. We bought a gas grill that needs some assembly. The wind is making that go further and further back on the priority trail. I can only sleep on my back at the moment as a drain on one side and a power PICC line on the other make rotating difficult. My blood levels are stabilizing......thank God. Prayer does work.

My Hospital Stay

On Friday, 4/24, I went in to my general surgeon's office to have my staples removed from my gall bladder incisions. I had been in a lot of pain, walking hunched over, having a hard time breathing and discussed thi with y doc at the appointment. My stomach was firm; too firm to be good news. Kind of like Baywatch without the hotness. I had some blood work done and had a CT scan scheduled for the following Monday. When the blood work came back, my white blood cell count was at 28,000, and I was having the CT immediately.

They found an absess and an air pocket in my abdomen. I went in for surgery Saturday to get cleaned out. A lot of my organs had stuck together and peeling them apart caused a lot of inflamation...A LOT of inflamation. So, I have been fighting this bacteria in my gut for a week, the antibiotics messing with my kidney function (creatnine levels are rising). I found out today that my white blood cell count went from 13,700 yesterday to 16,000. Not sure why. No one knows why. I am just a medical mystery at the moment.

I will try to keep you all posted as things happen.