When you're alone in the hospital bed

and the only one without visitors

It's 5:20 a.m. PDT. I have already had my vitals taken, my blood drawn, and been groped accidentally by a young man helping to change my gown after I got it wet. My roommate is up, rating her pain, and the guy across the hall is coughing up a lung.

I have pericarditis, fluid around my heart, completely unexpected and completely debilitating. I came to this hospital sixty miles from home Friday night by ambulance from the local hospital.

When a caseworker talked to me yesterday about going home, my stomach freaked out and I got weepy. I can't go home like this. But I can't stay here forever.

I have had three different roommates, all with families who visited and were taking care of things. My friends have called and texted, but it's not the same. The hours drag on.

I have never felt so weak, so helpless, so smelly, or so alone. If I can't even pee without calling for help, what am I going to do?

It has officially hit the fan.

I really should have made a better plan, one that would work on its own when I couldn't help. I do have a lot of wonderful friends, but we have nothing organized.

I keep imagining walking ever so slowly into my house, sitting on my chair, and wondering if this is going to happen again.

The meds for the heart are wreaking havoc with my stomach. I feel too awful to deal.

Being sick or injured always sucks. Being alone complicates it a thousandfold.

Forgive my typos. I have only my phone to write on.

I love you guys.

I am so grateful to Laura, who took me to the Newport ER and sat with me all day, advocating for me. LG, you may have saved my life.

Thanks to Kathy and Robb, who buttoned up things at home and brought me clean clothes for when I'm discharged.

Thank you, Linda, for the hospital survival tips.

I have not stayed in a hospital overnight since I was three years old. I was hoping to keep it that way. Nope.

We have to figure it out together.