Mason and I

Mason and I

Friday, August 15, 2014

Day 243 of San Diego

Another long post.

Wednesday:

Everything went back to square one because of a phone call. Tuesday night, mom and I agreed to call my main doctor to check if my blood test results were in. Wednesday morning; we did just that. We had to wait for a second doctor to call us later. While waiting for that call, another call from the urgent care nurses rang. Mom answered the phone. The nurse wished to speak with me. She told me my medication had been switched due to possible bacteria building up in my bladder from the other antibiotic. I didn't know what to say... The only thing I could think of was, "Why didn't the doctors test my antibiotic first before prescribing it to me?" I gave the phone to my mom to let her handle the situation. After the call, mom explained that the TWO new antibiotics (I am taking now) would assist cleaning my blood from the infection and clear my bladder from any bacteria.

Thirty minutes passed. Mom left for Safeway to pick up my other medicines. While there, the doctor mom and I waited for called and told mom that he couldn't see a kidney infection based off of the ultrasound pictures. We were shocked... He didn't know what was infected. He informed us to make an appointment with him tomorrow to discuss the matters. I almost fainted upon hearing the news. I thought I had cancer. I thought I was going to die from an unknown disease. I kept asking myself, "Why can't these doctors give us straight answers? Why can't they figure out what's wrong with me?" I wanted to give up on curing myself.

Throughout the day, I had horrid crying fits and had lost my appetite. I was scared... I continued to ask mom why the doctors were going back and forth on my infection. I hoped she had the answers. But she didn't. She was as frustrated as I was. We couldn't believe it. We thought we had the problem solved. I thought I was healing. Yet I didn't know anymore. I didn't know what to do; whether I should trust doctors or trust my own opinions. I sunk in a deep, deep dark pit of depression.

Thursday:

Mom and I visited the doctor who called. As a bonus, he knew us via my dad. Whenever dad's sick, he visits the doctor we visited. He's a very straight-to-the-point person. Doesn't say, "Well..." or, "I'm not sure..." He says, "I am sure" or, "No, that's not right." We talked about my symptoms and how long they lasted. Then, we talked about what he found on file. He told us I was incredibly sick before appointed to the ER. Yet he couldn't understand how I became healthier in four hours. That's why he couldn't figure out why doctors were saying I had a kidney infection. When we told him the doctors pumped antibiotics directly into my IV, his face lit up and he goes, "OH!" Finally, he could piece two-and-two together. He said, "Yes, you did have a kidney infection." Mom and I were relieved. The infection wasn't anything else.

After an examination of my kidney by pounding a fist on my back, I hugged the doctor as a thank you for the answers before leaving. It was reassuring to know I wasn't lied to.

I don't think I've ever been so happy over an infection.

Since the news was refreshing, my parents flew to Las Vegas in the evening. My mom had planned the trip prior to my infection. But she wouldn't have left unless everyone knew the infection was what we were told. And thankfully, I am healing.

I called Grandma J for her to spend the night with me that night.

Today:

Grandma and I woke up around ten. We slept downstairs. I ate breakfast until we drove to her house. We had chicken wings to cook! From 11:30 to 4:30, grandma, grandpa, and I cooked chicken wings before smearing them in the secret sauce. It was a load of fun! And delicious, too! I probably ate fifteen chicken wings. I always enjoy a batch of grandma's chicken wings glazed in the secret sauce.

However, the sauce isn't as secretive to me anymore. I read the recipe. But I'm NOT SHARING IT TO THE PUBLIC! So, it'll forever be a secret to my viewers. Suckers...

;)

Now that I am caught up with the week, I want to pay tribute to a precious actor and comedian: Robin Williams.

I felt absolutely awful when I heard the news, yet was too sick to write a post about it. I loved Robin Williams. Many people did. We still do. It was a stunning death nonetheless. I believed Robin would live a very long and prosperous life. At the age of 63, some people might agree he did live a long and prosperous life. But I think he could have lived a lot longer. To me, 63 is young to pass away. I expected his death natural from growing old. I hadn't the slightest hint telling me, "You know, I bet Robin Williams is depressed." Then again, people know how to hide it. They don't want others to know. They could be hiding it because they either don't want people to become sad towards realizing the person has depression, or they fear people wouldn't accept them - thinking the depressed are only downers whom don't have logical sense. There are a multitude of reasons why people bury their depression. The two examples I wrote are the reasons why I hide my depression. I'm curious if Robin was similar.

I saw Robin as the kind of actor/comedian who couldn't die. His energy, spirit, charisma, and humor compelled viewers to watch him over and over consistently without boredom. He had us laughing to tears with impersonations, lightning-fast wit, and outrageous gestures. But let's not forget his drama roles. When a man such as Robin Williams is able to tighten his strings and play a character as strict as the therapist in Good Will Hunting or as the memorable Eisenhower, your mind chokes on his successful dramatic poise.

It'll be difficult for me to see him in movies and think, "He WAS a wonderful actor and comedian." Instead, I want to watch him and say, "There will never be an actor or a comedian that could be as magnificent as Robin Williams."

Oh, Captain. My Captain. You will be missed.


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