Going home!

As hard as they looked, the hospital cannot really find anything wrong with me. My white blood counts are down again to 3.8, which is apparently since the Neulasta wore off, but it's still within range. My fever hasn't reappeared. The flu test was negative, and no other bugs could be cultured. So the official diagnosis is "sinusitis" that produced the fever. The best part is: I get to go home!!! Yay!!! Can't wait to get a restful night's sleep...

I wonder why hospitals are so bad at letting sick people get their rest. Not only do they want blood or vitals or something else from you at the oddest hours of the day and/or night, but they like keeping room doors open so that everyone on the whole floor can hear what's going on elsewhere. Say, why shouldn't all folks on the oncology ward get to share in the confused cries of the elderly and apparently demented gentleman who was brought up last night? Why wouldn't we all want to hear the rattling carts getting pushed through the halls? Why wouldn't we all want the light from the halls shining in our faces as we try to sleep? How about because none of the above actually help us rest and get well?!!!

In my particular case, the rest issue was made more difficult because I share the hospital room with an eighteen year old who just received a pretty serious diagnosis of an autoimmune disorder. I don't know if this is what is like every night, but she had a girlfriend sleep over in our room, and the two of them made it a pajama party, with talking, giggling and loud movies until the wee hours of the morning. Now, I feel for the girl, as she has a serious burden to bear, but it's still pretty inconsiderate to be this loud until 2 a.m. when there is someone else in the room. Still, I kept quiet and let the two do their thing. I'll catch up on the sleep when I get home.