Ten Days, No Explanation

I still have no idea what hit me on or around my birthday (8/18) that led to a 10 day hospital stay. This would be the second time I paid a visit to the Virginia Hospital Center (VHC) within the last 2 years. The first admit was expected - anticipated - and quite arguably looked forward to. It was in early May 2025 that I checked in early on a Wednesday morning forthe surgery that would change my lifeand rid me of a chronic condition that was threatening to kill me. I (somewhat) knew what to expect. I knew major surgery was coming and that once completed I would face months of recovery. I didn't anticipate 2 days in the ICU, which extended my stay at VHC marginally. Nor did I fathom how difficult my recovery during those first few weeks and months would be. But when I left VHC 5 days after the surgery I knew what followed would be recovery - no more UC, no more urgent trips to the bathroom, no more fatigue and all of the 'side effects' that came with the chronic condition. I was afraid, for sure. Back then I wrote thatgoing homemeant responsibility. I was actually frightened to leave the hospital - the nurses and staff had taken such good care of me that the thought of having to do it all on my own was daunting. But the reality of my 'new' condition set in and I charged on to embrace the new normal so I could regain my life. Slowly I felt better and better and gradually I began to do the things the chronic condition had kept me from. This last stay was much different. Unanticipated. Longer and filled with doubt. Anxiety and depression, the things I thought I had left behind, resurfaced. Self-pity came back. The why-me questions once again lingered in the back of my head. Day after day during the VHC stay, Drs. wandered in with no new information, with new tests and procedures. Nothing, it seemed, could explain the nightly shivers, fevers and pain. Still, there is no explanation for what it is that hit me. There may never be. Ten days at VHC, 5 more than my major surgery visit. Like the first time, I left VHC a little frightened. How will I cope if the pain hits me in the middle of the night at home? Will the meds I'm taking with me work? A myriad of thoughts raced through my head. Unlike the first time, however, recovery wasn't a given. It's been a week since I've left and I've continued to marginally improve and begin to regain my energy. I feel as if all the fitness and stamina I built up over the last year has disappeared and once again, I find myself at the beginning of the cycle to get my life back. I keep seeing a recurring theme in all of the things that have happened over the course of the last 489 days - I'm continuously learning how to deal with the ups and downs of recovery and the aftermath of surviving a debilitating chronic condition. I'm not entirely sure that I will ever be able to tell if my recent decline in health can be attributed to my condition, nor if it would have been the same had I been a 'relatively' healthy 60 year old, but the one thing I have learned is that I can't take things for granted in any way. UC took years to manifest itself and lead me to the point of physically altering my body. This time around, however, things changed in an instant. Before I knew it I was in a hospital gown surrounded by nurses and Doctors. Like after my surgery, pain followed me home, but this time around it is, thankfully, dissipating much quicker. Fatigue also followed me home, but as I write this I feel the energy coming back. I suspect that I will never rid myself of self-pity and the spirals into despair. But this time I was able to regain control faster than before. Despite the ten days at VHC and the time it will take me to recover from whatever it is that hit me, I know I will be back - again. I referenced Voltaire's Candide in a recent post, 'Tending the Garden Anyway.' I'll close with another reference to that same work. Pangloss would call my last few weeks all part of a greater plan. I'm not sure I agree with that. Instead, what I do believe is that like before, my garden is still there, waiting for me to tend to it - slower than before, but no doubt fixed in time. I've been here before, in one form or another, and I came back. I'm hoping I never have to go through this again, but if I do, I know I can and once again, will find my way back to the bike. Back to the trails and back to my true self once again… This post reflects personal experience. A medical disclaimer is available on the About page.