War Is Hell

It's been a tough day today. It was a bad night last night, which is mostly why today was tough. I slept very little, fitfully when I did, for short stints of perhaps an hour at best. My bladder is acting up again and the hospital staff have no clue when it comes to handling external catheters. So I was peeing almost constantly, soaking pad after pad after pad. My nausea was no better, not was my dizziness any better. It all continued by day.

It now seems to be the opinion of the medical team that we should treat this continuing low grade bladder infection seriously, thanks to a bout of fever last night. They are concerned it could break out into a full fledged infection and possible sepsis. It's happened before. What they will do differently this time is treat the infection agressively, with IV antibiotics over a period of 10 days or so, basically going to war against my own bladder. At the same time they will keep me on an inserted foley catheter to maintain bladder drainage.

This approach mostly arises out of the CT scan the other day, or was it yesterday. I don't know anymore, as one day melds into the next. Regardless, the CT scan showed a bladder that was inflamed, retaining urine in pockets of swelling along the bladder wall, urine which hosts all kinds of bacteria, ready to jump up and grow given the least opportunity. The inflamation is so bad that it is affecting the rest of my internals.

They are still concerned about c-difficile. So what they want to do is obliterate the bacteria in my bladder, get the swelling down, and essentially dry it out. Basically they want to give it a rest. What that likely means is another 10 days in hospital, another 10 days of tests and waiting. It's tiring being here; I am sleeping as much as I can whenever I can. As they say, war is hell, especially when you are at war with your own body.