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!
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