Easter in the Hospital

The Thursday before Easter, my husband and I safely arrived at my family's for the holiday.  Our intent was to stay until Monday or Tuesday.  I started running a low-grade fever within the first hour I was there but thought it was just stress because March was so busy.

Twenty hours later, I had a fever of 104 and a red spot on my leg.  My husband urged me to call the ambulance.  I could barely stay awake. 

I was diagnosed with two infections, one potentially life-threatening, and was admitted after telling the doctor I wouldn't come back if he sent me home.  Apparently, my local hospital has a policy about sending patients home with medicine unless they come in with a gunshot to the abdomen.  The doctor told me I could come back if I got worse, even if it was two hours later.  I couldn't even focus, I was burning up.  They almost sent me home.

So, I came home the day after Easter.  My leg is still sore and red, though not as bad.  I'm still so weak, my husband helps me to the bathroom.

I've been told I may be this fatigued and sore for months and, though I doubt it, I'm taking time off for myself from as many stressful and demanding things as possible.  Including this blog.

Forgive my absence.  I will still appear on Twitter as energy permits.