12/28 Monday update

[Joe Haldeman]

A quick note from Joe, still confined to the hospital . . .

All the joking about vampires seems to have some justification in  
fact.  The docs saw my red blood-cell count was declining and gave me  
a couple of units of blood.  Half an hour later, I seemed to join the  
human race.  Voice strong, feeling good.

But I still have to be hooked up to a drip (sounds like some  
marriages) for at least a month, for antibiotics.  Might save me an  
operation, so I'm all for it, though I suppose I should be altruistic  
and refuse, to help preserve the microecology.  If any bug can get to  
me after six weeks of intravenous antibiotics, you don't want to be on  
the same planet with it.

I'm in very little pain, and not taking any profound drugs for it.   
Just trying to be patient, reading good books.  The only other patient  
in the room is an overbearing blowhard, and I'm extremely tired of  
hearing him repeat the same opinions over and over in a voice that has  
the carrying power of an enervating foghorn.  But then I overhear his  
daughter trying to cope with him -- she's only "able" to come in for  
an hour every third day or so -- and I guess I can be thankful that I  
will eventually leave him behind.

Right now I'm reading Susan Vreeland's LUNCHEON OF THE BOATING PARTY,  
a historical novel about the Impressionists, which revolves around  
Renoir's painting of the same name.  The painting was meant to be a  
response to criticism of the group, and the novel is told from the  
point of view of several of the artists and hangers-on  in the  
picture, which gives the book a delightful in-joke dimension.

The food at the VA hospital is rarely any good, and a clerical error  
has given me all kinds of interesting limitations.  When I was on a  
liquid diet, prior to cat scanning, all I could have was variations on  
high-carb Kool-aid, which sent my blood sugar sideways, but that was  
just a blip.  I would be in a real dietary bind if I had to subsist on  
the diabetic diet.  Much of it is so bad I literally can't swallow it;  
glottis on strike.  Bring back that Kool-aid!  But Gay keeps me going  
by bringing in big sandwiches from home, liquid protein, and  
microwavable goodies.

Don't yet know when I'll be able to go home.  Might be only a couple  
of days, but no one wants to commit.  (The doctor in charge of my case  
is in the Bahamas for a couple of weeks.)

Right now I only have two antibiotics dripping into my pic line  
(haven't seen it written down, so that might be PIC or PiC or  
whatever).  I suppose the next four weeks will be rotation of various  
kinds.

I've had lots of company.  Lore comes by almost every day, and  
Christina and Brandy almost as often.

(Four hours later . . . ) No food or water for four or five hours, and  
then a fluoroscopic movie while they injected my pancreas with  
something.  Hospital starting to fill up.  I'll send this home for Gay  
to throw into the sky, hoping to hit a carrier pigeon --

Joe

PS from Gay:  No results from the fluoroscopy yet.  I got a lesson in  
taking care of an IV, so I think they're planning to let him go home  
soon.  Hope!

Our usual New Year's Eve party is still on, with Lore and Tim as  
hosts, in case Joe and I are at the hospital.  So much help is  
wonderful.  Love, Gay
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