First off, thank you, everyone, for the thoughts, well wishes, donations, emails, tweets, lemurs, pony-riding Fetts, and Words With Friends games. I appreciate them all and was brought nearly to tears a couple times. I’d respond to them all individually but there were a lot and, quite frankly, I’d rather not be moved to tears again. I’m all cried out after that stupid puppy/horse commercial from Budweiser and the “quit being homophobic racists, people” ad from Coca-Cola. YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO GET US DRUNK, BUD, NOT SAD!
Anyway, my fragile and wildly varying emotional state aside, I’m doing better and seem to be out of the immediate woods. They’re giving me less oxygen, I’ve got more energy, I’m on less mood-altering drugs, and my poop is starting to look like poop again. They’re putting a more permanent feeding tube thing into my stomach tomorrow and, barring complications, I should be discharged the next day. After that, it’s just the waiting.
For a variety of reasons, we’ll be doing that waiting here in California, within driving distance of Stanford Hospital, at least for the next few months. If my new lungs show up while we’re here, great, everything’s easier. If they take their sweet time, we’ll have to reassess come May.
In the meantime, please keep up the distractions and donations. I may be getting checked out of the hospital, but shit’s still pretty serious. I mean, they’re taking my lungs out. Thanks.