Adrian and Anu both spent Saturday night with me, and Sunday saw me waking up incapable of even considering realistic the drive to Inglewood that Adrian and I had planned. No Louis CK for us. Instead my guts seemingly wanted to rip out of my body. That with the vomiting seemed bad enough. Add blood to the situation, then take away the stool and add 24-hours ... welcome to ER.
I spent two days in an ER private room, as the CT scan deduced colitis may be contagious, on a gurney, with minimum care. Yesterday the care improved to an actual hospital bed and then an actual hospital room. I'm resting in it at this moment. Guts still churning, but much less blood, and much more stool. The huge doses of antibiotics, mixed with pain killers, seem to finally make dents into this traumatized gut of mine.
Only to discover from my GI doctor here that the runs aren't to be expected and so tests double checking results are required. At least one more day in my isolation closet. They continue to not feed me due to dietary screw ups in the kitchen, apparently. If liquid, only partially clear, if vegetarian, not liquid, and so forth.
Trying to get fed a clear liquid vegetarian diet seems like asking too much from the staff here, this stay. Adrian has been patient throughout even my worst breakdowns, thankfully. Going through this alone would be a hundred million times worse - I know from past experience.
There's so much more; I haven't written in far too long.