He's a Flip-Flopper

In my world, I am always suspicious when things go too well. I was in that frame of mind on Thursday, when I pulled the nasal packs out of my nose at 5 AM so that I could breath through my nose and get some sleep. Aside from a low-grade fever that cropped up that afternoon, there was no visible sign of having gone through two surgical procedures the day before. All was good.

Last night, I went to bed with juddering shakes and fever induced dream snakes crawling all over my body. I was in the EMOR by midnight and told to make myself at home for a few days.

Today I am enjoying push-button dosages of morphine to try to control whatever is chewing through the frontal lobe of my brain. The staff admits that they are more or less guessing at this point as to what is causing the pain and how to deal with it.

As for me, I am looking fondly at the button that will shoot the next dose of morphine into my IV. Once I push that button, my ability to write will most likely disappear.

So my friends, I will leave you now and try to post again when the fever gods let me up for a breath of air.