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[Comments] (5) Ahhhhh.... My Own Bed!: I am out of the hospital but didn't get out until nearly 10 p.m. last night. What's up with all that poky stuff?

I think I've only been so sick one other time in my life, when I was a kid and had Rocky Mountain fever. I went to bed after church Sunday (the 18th) and never got up again really. Wednesday was the worst day. I was seeing hallucinations, including one where Rachel came to me as an angel (little wings sprouting out of her shoulders) and told me I needed to get a degree in American history. I told her she needed to fly a kite.

Wednesday morning I was putting Gretel out so Irma could clean the house, and I collapsed on a garden bench. I was seeing a parting in the air, and I could see another world behind the air curtain--lighter and brighter than the one we live in. There was a halo of light around every leaf and flower. I stared at the rent in the time/space continuum, but Anna Buxton didn't come through it, so I figured I'd be okay. Then later I learned that Neal A. Maxwell, one of my favorite speakers ever, died Wednesday morning. So the angels WERE near.

When I went to my checkup with Dr. Amin on Thursday he bounced me straight into the hospital. What he didn't know is I was already so much better than I had been. However, they decided I was too sick to do the whoopdedootomy, so I had to wait.

Finally, the following week, Dr. Manu did the procedure. He said I was so overgrown with scar tissue it was like cutting wood, and it hardly bled at all. They didn't have me all the way out, and I could feel the scope tickling and scraping down my throat. He kept yelling at me not to vomit. Well, Dr., you have a camera down your throat and see whether or not you vomit.

I suppose I feel better but I don't know. I'm exhausted and I have to drink Gatorade instead of water--very unpalatable. It's nice to be home though.


© 2001-2006 Frances Whitney.