I have been all over this crazy, wide world but never, ever, ever (and I’ve been shot at through a civil war in Sri Lanka) was I so happy to cross the border from Mexico to USA.
I arrived to the San Diego airport in one piece. I’m sitting and waiting and enjoying trying some tea or Thai noodle broth (sans noodle) after 2 weeks of water and ice pop.
I am exhausted. My low back hurts. I have one pain pill to crush and take once on plane as well as a Xanax. I am as ready as I’m going to be.
I’ve got 4 doses of blood thinner in me.
This is the best I can do to get home. Otherwise, checking myself into and emergency room in SD seemed a bit more risky as my doctor isn’t here either. She suggested I go to the urgent care and let them scan me, represcribe better antibiotics and can’t cut me open again. This way I’m home and I can make any decisions needed with my own team of doctors.
I feel strong (ish). It’s hurts like a mofo as expected. But I’m going to get home. I know it. If a blood clot spreads in the air, I’m doomed. It’s a risk. A real risk.
The nurses wrapped my tightly in compression bandages so it’s a bit uncomfortable but does loosen over time. It also helps with pain moving as my belly is totally held in place.
I have to change my bandages once on my own before I fly. The lounge doesn’t have any private baths so I can determine if I just do this the moment I step on the plane. I have about 45 mins to decide.
Prayer for me that I arrive safely with no further complications.
Love y’all ❤️