Drumming my fingers, twiddling my thumbs

I'm starting to go stir crazy. I think I might send Ben home and have him get my scrapbooking stuff. I'm ready to make a good mess. Paper scraps everywhere. At least I would feel like I was getting something done.

My dad asked me when I was going to go back to work. I told him as soon as him and Ben let me. I love that they are so protective of me. I have always thought of myself as a capable, strong woman, but it's very comforting to know that I have two stronger, opinionated men looking out for me. It was awesome watching the two of them grilling the doctors while I was in the hospital. I loved seeing my dad pull the doc to the side and ask questions and expect answers. If they didn't get their answer, they kept at it until they did. It made me feel so loved, but it also made me feel SO safe.

Slacking or not?

Okay maybe it was a little of both.

For those of you who maybe aren't so local or haven't heard my body has been waging quite the battle against me. My mom started a blog when I got sick and the chronicles can be found here.

I was admitted to the hospital on the 27th of Dec.

Basically I got sick, tried to tough it out and ended up with double pneumonia which then turned into a gummy, gooey mess on one side. There were, ventilators, surgeries, tears, and prayers. Then I woke up from my sedation. It's a little fuzzy for me, some where around the 6th of January is where my memories actually start. So I really only know about the last five days of my hospital stay and the first couple of those I was still heavily drugged, and was having some very.....creative, yeah , that's the word, creative thoughts.

I'm getting a little better every day.

I got out of the hospital yesterday and am looking forward to recovery and getting back to normal life.

I miss running. I miss soccer.

I miss my muscle. It's gone, ALL gone. It's amazing how laying in a bed for 15 days completely destroys your body. I feel like this isn't even mine, some one switched it out with a weaker, less healthy version. Stairs SUCK.

I miss breathing deep, those lung muscles of mine are also missing. I guess it was the ventilator days on end there....

I've made it through the hard part. For a couple days they didn't know if I would actually survive. I guess at one point they told Ben to think of what he would want the kid's last memories of me to be. I feel horrible for that. I know I didn't wish myself sick, but I feel so bad that my family (husband, parents, brother, grandparents, friends) had to go through all of that. I don't remember a shred of it but I'm sure they will never forget.

Hopefully you will be hearing from me a little more frequently, I even have a few hospital pictures thanks to my dad, I'll work on getting those from him.