I have to say goodbye to my lovely morphine drip today. Bummer. It’s been a comfort the past few days, but Dr. S says he’s worried it’s making me too lazy to breathe, and he wants me off this oxygen. How can one be too lazy to breathe? Well, I can, that’s who. Sadly, it makes me want to smoke. Which I will refrain from, of course.
Some strange things I’ve mentioned—babbled---dreamed during my morphine ride:
Flibberty gibbets (kidneys) deeely ma joo hig (when I want something I can’t reach)
Puffalupugus (pancreas) thingy-bobber
Jimmy dean biscuits and gravy
Poop. (or lack thereof)
Miss my dogs miss my TIVO
If you’re going to get sick, do it in May. People bring you the most rockin’ peonies and iris.
My co-worker Rachael gave me an intense massage/counseling session for an hour and a half today in my hospital bed. She rocks.
Whenever I am on morphine, I hear music or things that aren’t there. In 2001 it was “Rockin’ Robin” and this year it’s “The Cramps”. Also, on the Daily show This Week in God … the beep beep beep beep boop boop boop…
I love sprite and iced tea. I can’t believe they fed me nothing but ice chips the first few days.