Lyme is NOT My Favorite Citrus Fruit

Tuesday, July 2nd 2013

The past two days I have been feeling very "Blah."  I've had a headache.  I have been EXHAUSTED!  I would be awake for 2 hours and want to lie back down and go back to sleep.  I would force myself to stay awake.  I would get dressed and DO something - ANYTHING - just to stay awake. 

I was zoning out mid-sentence.  I would be talking, stop, look at the person I was speaking with and say, "What was I saying?"  I couldn't for the life of me remember what I was talking about.  I would hear the first three words of their sentence, the last two words of it, realize I missed the entire middle and ask them to repeat it.  I felt horrible.  I didn't mean to not pay attention.  It was not intentional.  It was as if my brain was a fog.

I hurt - all over.  My everything hurt.  My head, my neck, my shoulders, my arms, my back, my hips, my legs, my knees, muscles, joints, everything.  It was a little hard to differentiate at first because I regularly have so much back pain.  My back pain frequently radiates down my legs.  I have been suffering the patellofemoral pain lately in my knees as well.  But this?  No. This was worse.  WAY worse.  I felt like I was dragging bags of cement around just to move myself.  I was weak.

I thought maybe I just overdid it with the excitement of Dayna Leigh coming down this past weekend.  I saw Marty and my friend Ari. We had a busy day on Saturday.  Maybe I just exhausted myself and after whatever went on with my back last week and my knees the proceeding weeks, maybe my body was just yelling at me to SLOW DOWN!

There's something about me noticing things in the potty lately.  Two weeks ago I noticed a tick on my hip while visiting the potty.  Monday early morning, as I was visiting the potty, it felt as if someone were scraping sandpaper down that same hip as I moved my super soft cotton undies.  :-/  ???  Sigh.  Deep breath. 

I braved a look.  Sure enough, plain as day, no spotlight needed, it was a beacon all its own - a bright red four inch bulls-eye!  That's my luck.  The kids constantly have ticks pulled off of them.  The dog constantly has ticks pulled off of him.  I find one tick latched on and I am the one with the glaring target on my hip! 

I did some research on the CDC's website.  I pretty much confirmed my symptoms followed the pattern of tick-borne illness.  They also fit right in the timeline to present as well.  Great.  Looked like I'd be making a call to the doctor's office to get some antibiotics and maybe some blood work.

By Monday night, I was feeling so miserable that I went to bed early.  I forgot to take my night meds.  I realized it after I was already snuggled in bed.  I had finally gotten comfortable.  I didn't care.  I was not moving.  One night was not going to cause me to die from lack of meds.

Tuesday morning I woke up bright and early. I felt rested.  No one else was awake. I had the whole house to myself!  Lovely peace and quiet!  It's a rare find around here!  I enjoyed my coffee out on the porch while I checked my email and Facebook messages.  I sat inside for a bit with my coffee enjoying my couch.  I heard the voices of children.  I grabbed another cup of coffee and took off for the porch!  If I got out there fast enough, maybe they wouldn't know I was up!  It worked!

At about 9:30 am, I felt a warm flush feeling and started to sweat.  I thought maybe it was the humidity, it was a warm day.  I ventured inside, announcing my consciousness to the children.  I went upstairs and crawled into my bed and felt my back start to relax and straighten out.  Then I felt the chest discomfort.  The dizziness was soon behind.  The anxiety quickly followed.

I got up and took a shower.  If I was going to the emergency room, I was determined to be freshly showered, clean, and smelling pretty - even if my hair was in a haphazard bun wound atop a messy ponytail on my head.

I texted Lisa.  At 11 am she was still in bed. At 11:17, she still hadn't answered. I texted again.  At 11:30, I called.  I REALLY didn't feel well.  I was lightheaded and queasy.  I felt like my heart was going to jump out of my chest.  I was having palpitations.  My pulse was rapid and thready.  She agreed I didn't look good.

Dayna woke up to watch the boys.  I told her I was going to the doctor.  I didn't want her to worry.  Lisa drove me to the hospital. We went to a different one this time.  As we came off the exit ramp, she pointed out a little cemetery.  I told her not to get any ideas.  If I died, I did not want to be buried there.  I wanted to be cremated and sprinkled.

The ER had scant parking.  You would think they would have more convenient parking for EMERGENCY patients.  Nope.  You have to WALK a mile to the door.  I guess it discourages people who aren't having true emergencies - either show up via ambulance and get VIP shipment right in, or you can walk, hobble, fall down, etc.  on your way to the door.

I was triaged right away.  They did an EKG right in the triage room.  I commented my vitals must have been pretty good to warrant that.  They said it was protocol.  Maybe. I'm certainly no expert, but I did watch the ticker-tape print out.  It looked good.  Nothing was obviously bizarre.  That helped calm my nerves a bit. They sent me back to the waiting room.  That also calmed my nerves.

A little Iranian lady called me to draw blood.  I found out later she was Iranian.  She had a very thick accent.  I had no idea she called me.  Lisa deciphered what she said and told me to get up.  She was good. I didn't really feel it. She got me first stick. That takes talent.  The RN at the last hospital last week blew my good vein.  The ONE good one I have.  The Holland Tunnel of veins that I "save for emergencies" in case I am in a car accident and a medic needs to start a line on the fly in the field to administer blood and needs a good large bore. Nope, that murse went right through it and gave me a nasty bruise. This little lady?  She hit the small sclerosed one in my left AC.  And I didn't feel it.  And I didn't feel her change tubes.  AND I didn't bruise.

I went back into the waiting room.  I spent the time listening to the annoying woman sitting on the other side of the room.  There was a sad looking lady in a wheelchair and another woman accompanying her messing around on a laptop chattering off constantly.  At one point, I typed out on my phone and showed Lisa, "Is it bad that I listen to that woman and all I think is Adam Sandler's mom in the Waterboy?"  Seriously.  She had the same amount of brains.  She had the same dialect and accent.  I was waiting for her to talk about ornery alligators and toothbrushes.

Lisa spent the time reading the new blogs I posted.  She laughed.  I took that to be a good sign. I guess the muse was with me.  I was called in to register rather quickly.  The lady in there was pleasant as well.  I had to change my insurance information. I switched to straight Medicare this week.

"So no more Humana?"  Sigh.  "Medicare doesn't cover everything," she advised.

"Humana didn't have doctors who treat my condition in network and had a very difficult referral process.  I had it for six months and have not been able to get the care I need.  It's no good to me if it doesn't allow access to the doctor I need care from. It doesn't matter if they cover it, if they have no provider, they don't cover it."

Then I waited.  And waited.  And waited some more.  By then, I was feeling pretty confident I was NOT having a heart attack.  Surely if they thought it was an MI they would not leave me in the waiting room for an hour.  Surely if it was something serious, they'd have me in a room with an IV and beeping monitors by now.

They called me back.  The nurse had me change.  I got more stickies and cables and hooked up to a monitor in the telemetry section.  Uh oh.  Maybe the blood work showed something. :-/  Great.  Now I am worrying again.  Lisa said it might just be precaution.  Yeah.  Let's go with that.  BP was better, heart rate was down and no longer 127.  We reviewed my symptoms and the meds ordered.

"Have you ever had morphine?"

"Yes."

"You do ok with it?  No allergies?"

"Honestly?  It gives me a migraine and no pain relief what so ever.  Percocet is more effective and doesn't give me a headache.  Dilaudid works well, too.  Morphine just makes me feel like garbage."  The nurse left the room, came back in and said, "Okay, got that fixed.  Any problems with aspirin?"  I said no.  I showed him my hip.  He said we were definitely showing that to the doctor, which we did. 

He aimed for my left forearm with his IV stick.  It hurt.  I did makeshift Lamaze.  I clenched my eyes and curled my toes and grabbed the sheet and tried to remain still.  I reported that whatever he was doing hurt a lot.  I asked Lisa if he was digging.  She said no.  The nurse said he thinks he hit a valve.  Fantastic.  He pulled the line and called in reinforcements. 

The IV guy got me first try - in the same site the phlebotomist used.  He also pulled a vial of blood to "check for a blood clot in my lung."  I'd already had a chest x-ray.  Now I was worried again.  Depression set in pretty quick. Here we go again.  Repeat five years ago.  Been here, done this.  Lisa was fantastic support.  I didn't have that last time.  I was much more alone and afraid then.  I had my Mom with me when I went to the ER that time, and she came to see me in the hospital, which was fantastic and greatly appreciated.  But I didn't want to be a burden.  Dayna was younger, I was more focused on making sure she was taken care of, so I made sure Mom was taking care of Dayna, and I dealt with it myself.  I kept feelings in so I wouldn't worry people. I know Mom worries, and I didn't want her to.

After a few hours, all tests came back good.  YAY!  The doctor came back in to report the good news.  He said he has no idea why I am having chest symptoms, but the rash and the tick bite history definitely suggest Lyme.  He suspected if I had waited longer I would have begun experiencing high fevers, sweats, and much worse symptoms.  "It's probably all related to the tick."  We did a repeat cardiac enzyme just to be sure and safe.  At this point, Lisa couldn't resist.

"Can I ask you how tall you are?"

"Sure."

Quiet.

"Go ahead and ask me."  The doctor grinned.

"How tall are you?"

"Six - eight."

"I knew it!"  That's exactly what she estimated.

At 3:30pm, I met my new nurses.  Shift change report happened at my bedside.  There was a young nurse.  She was very quiet, didn't say anything to me at all.  There was an older nurse.  The leaving nurse asked if we could show them my hip.  I said sure and whipped it out!  He said, "What does that look like?"  The young RN looked.  Blank stare.  Head shake.  Shrug.  The older RN looked and said, "Oh, you got bit!  You did the right thing coming here!"  From that moment, I knew I didn't care for the little girl, but I LIKED that lady!

I had a dose of IV doxycycline.  The young RN came in with the med and tubing.  She said nothing.  She made no eye contact.  She went to the computer.  She typed something.  She picked up the scanner and asked for my barcode.  I held it out so she could scan me like produce.  (I wonder if it starts with a 9. Maybe I'm organic!)  She wandered to the other side of the bed.  She hung the bag.  She dropped the tubing on the sheet next to me.  She walked around the bed and took my IV site.  I picked up the tubing and held it for her.  She said thank you and swabbed my port.  At least she did that.  She did not flush my lock.  She connected it.  She walked back around and started the pump.  Immediately an inch long air bubble ran into my arm.  :-/

A few moments later as I was watching my line, I saw a wonderful section approximately a foot long that appeared to be all air with a few droplets of liquid stuck to the sides of the tube.  Lovely, the dunce can't prime tubing.  I clamped the line.  The pump began beeping. I prayed the older nurse would come check and the younger personality of a slug would stay away.  I got lucky.

I played dumb.  I politely explained I was worried, got nervous, better safe than sorry, yadda yadda.  She fixed it with no problem for me.  All was well after that and I didn't see the slug again, which was fine by me.  I didn't trust her to touch me anyway.  I have standards.  She blew it.

Lisa asked the nurse to order me a lunch tray since I hadn't eaten and I was a bit woozy - especially after 10mg oxycodone, 324mg aspirin, several tubes of blood drawn, and now doxy.  I was sad.  The kitchen slaughtered the spinach.  No spinach should have to endure that torture of being harshly chopped and boiled to a nasty blob of unrecognizable tasteless mush pile.  It should be prepared with respect so it can sit proudly on the plate and proclaim, "I am healthy, delicious and nutritious Spinach!"  I also had what looked like a microwaved frozen On Cor possibly turkey of some sort meat product covered in slime.  The roll was tasty. 

As I opened my cutlery pack - plastic utensils wrapped in a napkin with a paper strip stuck around it - Lisa noted, "Someone wrote on your napkin."  I opened the message from my secret admirer.  Maybe it would direct me to hidden treasures!  It was math.  What a letdown!  The nurse wandered by as I sat there reading 24 minus 15 equals... "OH! That's disgusting!"  And she yanked it out of my hands!  "It never ceases to amaze me around here!"  She grabbed me some fresh paper towels from the dispenser.

The nurse came in to take out my IV.  I asked her if she knew about how long before I started feeling better.  She said I would start to feel a little better from now on with the medicine on board, but "it'll be about 3 days before you're back to running around with your hair on fire."  I got my discharge papers and booked out to Walgreen's.  I splurged on a pair of sandals for $7 while I waited for my antibiotics.  I came home, thanked Dayna, and plopped on her bed to chat.  We attempted a nap.  Why?  I don't know.  It's impossible in this house.  Thing 1 and Thing 2 make certain EVERYONE in the county is awake from 8am until midnight!

Attack Of The HUGE Beetle

Last night as I was coming in from the porch with Dayna Leigh, a HUGE (and I mean HUGE) beetle-type bugger snuck in and cavorted up the stairwell. Lisa and Dave sat on the couch saying, "Close the door!" I hollered, "Not until it's OUT!"

I said I need a broom. I walked a lap around the center of the downstairs, because the broom is never where it's supposed to be, grabbed said broom, and returned to the stairs.  I found three cats on the stairs tracking the beetle. It was adorable. Seiji, Aslyn, and Romeo were on various levels of the steps all eyeing the bugger as it flew haphazardly into walls.  If you've ever watched a beetle, you know what I mean.  They are not the brightest bugs.  They tend to kamikaze smash into anything solid.  Then they bounce off, and come back and do it again!  It's like they are trying to knock sense into themselves.

Dave said, "Hit it!"

I said "I can't!  The cats are right there!"  By this point the bug was on the railing, and all three cats had raced over and had paws up looking at it with differing expressions. 

Seiji, being the oldest and most experienced, appeared the old sage.  His look clearly said, "Children, this is a HUMONGOUS crunchy black bug.  Note the extra long whiskers atop its head.  See how they bend and twist.  Note the wings.  If you were to try to EAT that thing, I doubt it would taste yummy. It would definitely be crunchy and clean your teeth, but it'd probably taste putrid! MUCH better to stare at, observe, and play with!"

Aslyn is very studious.  She is MY kitten.  She is quite smart.  You can see the intelligence in her eyes when she is looking at things.  She ponders.  She THINKS!  She KNOWS!  She is the kitten nerd of the household.  She took in the wise teachings of her senior brother.  She got right in there to examine the specimen, but maintained a safe distance, possibly due to lack of a hazmat suit.

Romeo is a typical little boy.  He is curious. He is impulsive.  He is macho!  He will hiss and spit and declare his manhood!  He is skittish and stereotypical "Fraidy-cat" and a big Momma's boy affectionate mush (which we're all fine with).  He had no problem jumping in when Big Brother Seiji wisely taught about the Huge Crunchy Black Bug with Big Whiskers - until the bugger decided to fly again.  Then Romeo quickly backed up and bolted halfway up the stairs safely out of reach to let his little sister and adopted big brother handle the job.

Now armed with a broom, and attached dust pan, glasses on face so I could see my target, daughter manning the door to swat the criminal out of bounds, we were ready!  The kittens were done with their lesson.  The bug was done sitting still for examination.  It flew.  At my face.

I swung!  Four feet of broom sliced the air in front of me!  A HUGE black beetle bug zoomed past my zero'd target zone into my personal space.  I attempted to re-calibrate my strike.  It was impossible.  Bristles were four feet in front.  A 1 inch diameter pole was connecting them to my hands and being quite useless against a bug that has NO concept of tactical flight patterns, but somehow it managed to avoid every swish I made.

The dust pan fell off the broom handle.  It landed on my head and proceeded to slide down my face, taking my glasses crashing to the floor with it!  I'm BLIND!  (Seriously, with a -9.25 prescription, I was effectively blind.)  I held out the deadly weapon to my second in command (my daughter, of course).  She stood stunned for a moment (at least I think she did, I couldn't see squat).  Then the broom left my hand.  I stooped down, aimed for the glare, and scooped up my glasses before moving my feet and retreated to nurse my wounds.

Reinforcements arrived.  The broom was handed off to Lisa.  See made it to the stairs, identified the target, and exclaimed something incredibly un-lady-like.  It was along the lines of, "Holy ^%#$!"  Dave sat safely on the couch.  His contribution was to advise her to "hit it."  Gee.  How helpful. 

She responded, "You have to come see this." 

"After you hit it."

She wacked it.  The broom went down.  It stayed down.  Dave rose from the couch.  He retrieved the dust pan from the floor and approached the stairs.  Lisa asked if he was ready.  He told her to wait.  He then poked and chopped at the broom bristles.

"Are you trying to decapitate it?"  Seriously?  NOW you're going to be a man?  After the women-folk have subdued the perpetrator?  NOW you're going to chop it up with a dust pan?  Our hero!

Lisa moved the broom.  A similar sailor-ish expletive escaped Dave's lips. 

"I wasn't kidding when I said the bugger was HUGE!"  Why does no one believe me?

Dave scooped up the beetle, observed it for a moment, and commented that, "only four of its six legs are currently working."  That makes me feel so much more comfortable.  Actually, it makes me feel a little bad for the bug.  Not that I like bugs.  I generally don't.  But I DO appreciate their necessity in the world, and respect their right to exist in it.  I even have a spider living in my room.  I have less of a bug problem in there since its arrival, so I leave it alone.  When we first moved in, I had my windows open one night and all sorts of little buggers came through the screen to hang out with me.  I didn't like that.  So Aragog III stays, rent free, all you can eat buffet.

Ticked Off

June 17th 2013

Last night I found a tick on my hip.  Yes, my HIP!  UNDER my underwear!  The perverted little bugger was trying to get a free show.  He obviously never got the memo that my nether ye-ah is off limits!  Special invitation only!  And I haven't invited anyone in a really, REALLY long time!  It certainly is not going to be an arachnid!

Back to the story.  I entered the bathroom and prepared to potty. During normal procedures, I felt a suspect bump.  I looked.  It was dark.  I scraped my finger nail and flicked the perpetrator off onto the floor.  I then proceeded to quickly examine him, identify his species, grab appropriate PPE (personal protective equipment - in this case a wad of toilet paper), apprehend the criminal and sentence him to life in a septic tank by means of a swirly. 

Anyone who knows me, knows I have anxiety issues.  Anyone who knows me well, knows I am sensory sensitive.  This means a few things.

·         

•       Don't invade my personal space.  BACK UP!
• ·         Don't touch me unless I have given you permission.
• ·         Do not come anywhere NEAR my face unless you are a doctor I am seeing for treatment.
• ·         Please do not swing or throw anything near or at me.
• ·         I am claustrophobic.  Even small bathrooms make me nervous.  Tight necklines on shirts are unbearable, I feel suffocated and choked, I cut them off.
• ·         I am extremely tactile sensitive.  If the breeze blows and my little peach fuzzy blonde arm hairs move, I will feel it and will probably either brush my arm or look to make sure there isn't a bug there.
• ·         Finding a bug anywhere on me will give me the heebie jeebies for HOURS!
• ·         I cannot tolerate bugs and food at the same time.  If I am eating, please don't even mention bugs.  Do not mention bug bites.  Do not mention any bug facts or trivia.  Do not show a picture of bugs.  Do not watch a TV show about bugs (or carnivorous crustaceans). And definitely do not point and say, "Hey!  Look at that bug!"  I will lose my appetite, and will have to calm myself to prevent vomiting.

That being said, you can probably imagine the level of heebie jeebies I was suffering after finding a tick so close to my most holiest of holies.  I proceeded to do a body scan.  I could clearly see the ventral side from the belly down easily.  I could see the front of my shoulders and arms.  I could not see my posterior.  I turned in the mirror and tried looking. 

I noted a brown bump on the backish side of my neck.  Freaking, I grabbed the bugger and yanked it off!  It was not a bugger.  :-/  It turned out to be a pigmented skin tag I was unaware I had.  Aside from OUCHIE, lemme tell ya, it BLED!  I sat for the next 20 minutes holding a pressure dressing on my neck.  Of course, all the stress had me woozy.  Topped it all off nicely.

The next morning, I proceeding to ask Lisa to look and make sure it was ok.  For the following two days, I proceeded to show Lisa assorted "beauty marks" and freckles I was unfamiliar with to confirm they were in fact beauty marks and freckles.  Through it all, I said a lot of "Thank You" and "I can't see my butt, I had no idea that was there!"

The joy of being Irish, fair skinned, fairly freckly, and anxious about bugs!