Alot happened in a month.

So…it’s been a while. A lot has happened since the last time I wrote. Starting with being in the freaking hospital for nine days with pneumonia. Let me tell you, I didn’t think I was going to make it. When I say I couldn’t breathe, it was like someone had a 100 lb weight on top of my lungs. The day I went in I got up, took a deep break, and a slow stabbing pain exuded from my chest with every breath. I checked on the internet (bad idea) to make sure it wasn’t a heart problem and of course I read that I have heart failure or cancer or some other not-quite-right catastrophe.

I try to shower, accepting the fact that I may need to go to the hospital. In hindsight, seeing that I nearly fainted in the shower trying to catch my breath, I know this was a questionable decision. I feel stupid now, but I needed to wash my ass. It was a crucial mission. For one, I’m fat. For two, I’m not a fat stereotype—I like smelling good. For three, ass-washing is essential for life damn it. I digress.

So I’m dragging ass out of the bathroom, using as much strength as I have to unluck my bathroom door so I can call an ambulance. I fall out on my bed thinking “what in the hell is going on with me?” I had been in the hospital a couple weeks prior, so I was wondering, “is it a carbon dioxide build up again?” (That’s how I’d learned I had sleep apnea.) I barely manage to get a t-shirt and some underwear on before the paramedics arrive.

They come in four or five deep: one is giving me oxygen, one is checking my blood pressure, another sets up the gurney, there’s a trainee observing, it’s a whole mess. They check my oxygen levels against the normal upper-nineties and find mine is 77%. It was ALL BAD. They booked it getting me to the hospital on high oxygen the whole way and it still keeps dropping. We finally make it to the hospital, I get an x-ray, and then the news that I have a bad case of pneumonia in both lungs.

Well, shit. No wonder I felt like I was dying—I really was. Not gonna lie, for a minute I thought it was Corona, but thankfully that test came back negative. So there I was back in the ICU, four rooms away from where I’d been a few weeks prior. I knew the nurses on a first-name basis from the first time so I was like “so I’m back for a visit, I hope you missed me?” That’s how I started my nine day stay.

Day one was mostly me sleeping and being poked and prodded and stuffed full of drugs until the next morning. On day two they started having me wear a high-pressure breathing mask with oxygen trying to get my levels up. By then I realize I haven’t eaten since the morning I was admitted. My two-day fast turned into three days and let me tell you, I was hangry by three. I was still polite to the staff because I’m not an asshole and I believe if someone is taking care of you, you treat them with respect (not to mention you’re at their mercy and they can fuck you up anytime they want to). Always remember to treat your medical staff, your food services staff, any staff that is serving you with respect.

By 9pm on day three, one of the nurses (my Angel in Blue) snuck me a sandwich and an Ensure because she felt bad. I’m not going to out her by name of course but let’s just say, all nurses are the MVPs but this woman was THE MVP. Thankfully they remembered me from the last visit and remembered that I was respectful, so shout-out to the staff at Truman Hospital Lakewood ICU.

Day 4 I’m slowly improving and they just have me on the nasal oxygen during the day and the mask while sleeping. I’m passing the time with Golden Girls and Food Network shows. Side note: Rose is my favorite Golden Girl, her roast game is something fierce. I’ve also never watched so much Guy Fieri in my life and now I want to experience Flavortown.

Day 5 I’m getting restless and bored. There’s nothing to do and I start wishing I had brought a few things along to keep me entertained. I get so bored I start watching “To Catch a Predator” with Chris Hansen on YouTube and realizing how dumb people are, and then watching Vlad TV which actually featured Chris Hansen. For those who aren’t familiar with Vlad TV, it’s an interview show that features mostly figures of hip hop and occasionally alternate guests like adult performers, pro wrestlers, and for some reason Chris Hansen. It’s a candid show that focuses on the person being interviewed and never shows the host because he wants to keep the attention on the guest and not himself (smart, I think). For a long time, people didn’t even know what he looked like; I only saw him for the first time a few months ago because I didn’t really care what he looked like. I knew he was a white guy but that was about it.

Anyway, I’m basically watching trash TV on YouTube for entertainment, which continued on to day 6. By the 6th day of hospital food, I decided to order some Postmates. By day 7 I was really hoping they’d let me out of the hospital and say the same to one of the nurses. She says I need to do a walking test to make sure my oxygen is stable (spoiler – it wasn’t). They have me walk around the ICU and my oxygen drops into the 80s. Since I failed the test, I was stuck another day.

Day 8 I’m getting depressed with being in the hospital so long. I’m literally in this mindset of “am I ever going to get better or have I really fucked myself up this bad?” I have an emotional breakdown, get told I’m going to have to stay another day, and nearly have another in front of the doctor. He tells me I can discharge myself if that’s what I really want to do. Of course, I decide against discharging against medical advice because that would be stupid but I sure did think about it. After about an hour of reflecting I realize I need to stop whining and complaining and be happy that I’m still alive, so I checked myself and changed my attitude.

Day 9 we do the oxygen test again and…I passed just enough to go home. I still had to wear the oxygen at home to try and repair some of the damage from the pneumonia, but I was cool with that because at least I got to go home. After a crap-ton of paperwork, while I’m waiting for the oxygen to get there, Mom comes by to drop me off some clothes and a close friend visited too. I’m getting picked up by wheelchair services only to find out they were out of the wheelchair vans so I got to go out on a gurney just like I came in. I say “do you guys want to zip me up in a bag to make this look more real?” The nurses cracked up and told me to go home.

On the ride I’m talking to the guys and one of them is 6’4 and wears a size 17 shoe. I’m like, “dude, you must have a hard time finding shoes like me cuz I wear a size 15” and we get into a conversation about Big & Tall men problems and the struggle. He even tells me about him going to the club and some white girl thought he looked like the guy from “The Blind Side,” after which they apparently dated for a few months. I told him about the time I was recognized as Sean Kingston by African soccer players in Europe.

So we shared a good laugh and they dropped me off at my apartment, and I’ve been healing ever since. It’s been a process for the last few weeks, thinking about what needs to be done and really making some considerations about my future. For now I’m going to leave it at that, and I promise it won’t be so long before the next post. - Anthem



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