Wednesday, the plan was to cook. My youngest daughter planned a menu of delicious recipes, and I was to be her assistant.
But when I woke up, standing on my feet for just a few minutes wore me out. I had to go back to bed.
I did not feel well.
As the day progressed, I was not getting any better.
I began to worry... a lot. I had absolutely no strength for anything. I did not feel sick, but I certainly did not feel healthy. I could not move. I could not eat. I could not even drink. My body hurt. My muscles hurt. Even breathing hurt.
Moshe contacted my oncologist for me. My doctor agreed that going to the hospital sounded like the right course of action.
It took a while to get out of the house, but we went, leaving behind a house that was no where near ready for a three day chag (holiday).
I got to the hospital and I could not even sit up for triage. I went straight in to the ER nurse, told her I am an oncology patiend and need to lie down. The nurse set me up on a bed right away, and she did my intake.
First, I told her how awful I felt. Second, I asked if I would make it home for Yom Tov (the holiday).
One of the things I love most about Israel is that even the hospital staff "get it;" they understand that you can be falling off your feet, but you want to be home with your family to celebrate the new year.
Everyone on staff worked hard to make that happen.
I received two liters of fluids and a half liter of blood. As the last few drops were flowing, they sent my husband to check out. As he completed the paperwork, the nurses detached me from the IV, then we "ran" to the car.
We got home two minutes before sh'kiyah (sunset), to find the food cooked and on the plata (hot plate), and the table set.
Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.
With love and optimism,
A New Definition of Poor Taste
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