I’m continuing to make lots of progress and am super grateful and all that, etc. etc. However, as you’ve probably gathered from the extensive complaining in which I’ve indulged in previous posts, it isn’t all sunshine, unicorns, and high-energy ketogenic supplemental beverages.
Although there’ve been many challenges, the one that’s made me wallow the most has been my husband’s and my prolonged separation.
(You’re the worst, COVID-19. Oh, and life [sometimes] sucks.)
It was due to characteristically weirdo thought processes that I stalled for a while after someone suggested that I ask for a “compassionate grounds” exception to this hospital’s current and totally reasonable no-visitors policy—which I rationally know is meant to protect patients but nonetheless hate—so that I could see my husband in person for the first time in threeish months.
There are few things I avoid more than going out on a limb, likely because I interpret all limbs as being about to break and thus representing grave danger. In the mixed-up world of my brain, I’d usually rather leave open the possibility that I could’ve received a yes than be disappointed with a no. “Don’t ask and ye shall be resentful but shall also avoid dealing with the confusing emotions that come with being let down,” as the saying I just made up goes.
Being stuck in the hospital for six months has strengthened my already-entrenched instinct not to ask for what I want and/or need (these are sometimes the same and are sometimes very, very different; it’s hard, even for me, to argue that a new LEGO set is an actual necessity), but I finally talked myself into making the request for a visit. Much to my surprise, the answer was “yes” at all levels of the bureaucratic chain at which approval was needed. Thanks to some prodding from very good nurses, all the formalities were taken care of much more quickly than I thought could happen.
This was a one-time thing (for now), and I won’t claim that it went off without a hitch. It didn’t—again, the progress I’ve been making regarding my seizures, postictal psychosis, and eating disorder hasn’t been all sunshine, unicorns, and high-energy supplemental ketogenic drinks (though I have started purchasing a ton of unicorn-related stuff for myself and am still consuming seventeen of those beverages a day). Despite the unanticipated PIP-related “issues” that arose, however, being in the same room as my husband has rarely felt so meaningful. I look forward to when—someday soon—it won’t be a deal at all.
Every supplemental ketogenic drink brings me one step closer. Still, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to buy a unicorn T-shirt for good luck.