I, for one, will be glad to see the ass end of 2012 as it skitters out the door because:
This has been the year of the suck for me. If you remember, I had hernia surgery some three years ago. For whatever reason, the incision never really closed all the way. On the right side, there was a little weepy spot that could be covered by a Curad bandaid. No biggie, right? However one day I felt a sharp pain in the left-hand side of the incision, like something was poking me from the inside. That led to another little spot and another Curad bandaid. Again, no big deal, and I didn't bother with the doctor. However, one day it started leaking some weird-ass fluorescent green stuff - the color of which should never be associated with the living human body. About a week or so later the drainage became more copious, and I thought of calling the surgeon to have a peek. Unfortunately, my body had a mind of it's own. After going shopping one Friday in March, I went to the bathroom at home, and started leaking some kind of rust-colored drainage.
Even I, for all my denial, knew I had to be seen, and my son and I went to the hospital emergency room. Long story a little shorter, it turns out the mesh they implanted with the first surgery had infiltrated the small intestine (hence the fluorescence). I ended up being admitted for a bowel resection to remove the damaged area and the rest of the mesh, and a second hernia surgery. The doctor was thrilled - said everything went picture perfect - then my body said 'fuck that' and crashed. My kidneys began to fail and my pressure dropped to like 40/something equally as low. When I awoke, I found I had been intubated and had been in intensive care for over a week. My kids thought they were gonna lose me.
No such luck, however. I pulled through, and after some three weeks in the hospital, came home. Without an appetite. That's right, folks - I didn't want to eat a bloody thing. For a couple of weeks I existed on nothing but Ensure. I was sleepy all the time, the incision was draining like a river, but I was home, so I was happy. One night, my elder son went out and I was standing by my bed. Next moment I was down on the floor. I sat on my own ankle. The crack could be heard around the world, it was so loud. I managed to drag my phone off a table and called 911, because there was no way I could get off the floor. The paramedics agreed; I had broken my ankle very badly.
Back to the freakin' hospital, where I stayed, bedbound, for awhile, before being sent to a nursing home, to be surrounded by the elderly. Promise me that one of you will shoot me dead before I ever have to go to another place like that. I'm begging you. I was there for about three of the most hellish months of my existence before coming back home. with a wheelchair.
Oh, did I mention that I lost about 80 pounds during this whole ordeal? Not a way I'd recommend losing weight, by the way.
Round after round of surgeon and orthopedist visits and we come to now. I use a walker to get around, my ankle will never feel 'right' again, and the surgical wound is almost finally healed. There were many times I wanted to give up, but I couldn't let it get the better of me. I'm a stubborn old cuss, and I don't want to leave unless it's under my terms.
Well, that's my tale of woe. It's depressing to recount it all, but I wanted to let you all know I'm still here, even though I've been silent. I came home at the end of July, and it's taken me this long to actually get the words out of my brain and onto the page. I love you all, and have been following LJ, even though I've been silent for the most part.
I'm even trying to get back into fic-writing, having posted the latest chapter of Beloved. Stop by, please, and say hello. I promise to read everything, and hopefully reply.
Wishing you all a Merry Christmas, and hope your Hanukkah and Solstice were enjoyable. Hugs and smooches,