I’m being held at the hospital indefinitely while they try to figure out what’s wrong with me and how to fix it.

It seems I’m vomiting uncomfortably, because I have a gastric blockage. It’s hard to see it super well, but there is definitely thickening around the duodenum which is making it impossible for food to pass.

I also have way too much fluid in my peritoneum and abdomen. They’re afraid it might rupture, as my stomach is like three times the size it should be. So now that’s being drained in the most barbaric way: through a tube laced down my nose and throat. It’s been slowly draining for the last six hours or so. I’m stuck with all these cords threaded through my nose and throat and they hurt like a motherfucker. I cried hysterically during that procedure, and puked all over myself.

It has been a no good, very bad, 24 hours.

My bestie is here staying the night at the hospital. D’s bestie is leaving town tomorrow, and then D will be here for the long haul with more supplies. It sounds like I’ll be in the hospital for at least five days, if not longer, while all the docs determine the best plan of action: waiting for chemo to work, surgery to repair the issues where possible, or a combination thereof

I’m so fucking lost. I can’t believe this is happening. Dr B mentioned both the permanent drain and gastric or bowel obstructions as part of my long term care plan, but I thought I’d have more time. Instead, I’m experiencing both in the exact same week. I feel dangerously close to my end. I feel death whispering in my ear.

What do we say to the God of Death? NOT TODAY.

The kids have been updated and they are heartbroken. I had to cancel our trip scheduled for next weekend, and I may end up missing Jackson’s 13th birthday, which is next Wednesday.

I’m worried I won’t make it to see Thanksgiving or Christmas.

If you ever had something you wanted to say to me, I’d say it now.