The evening started out rather well. Meg told me I should get all gussied up and do my hair and makeup (which I did) and then Isaac and I were off to see the Green Lantern at 7:45pm. We were hanging out, enjoying the movie and some hot dogs when about three-fourths of the way through the film, my right hand started to inadvertently claw up--similar to someone with rheumatoid arthritis. A little confused at what was happening, I excused myself and went to the bathroom to unwravel my hand and stretch it out. After maybe a minute or two of stretching, it was feeling much better, but by the time I got back into the movie, it was all locked and cramped again and my tongue had started involuntarily twisting into knots in my mouth.
I tried to play it cool for a couple of minutes and then rememberd that I had promised Isaac I'd tell him every little thing. Honestly, I'd like to say I told him right away, but the truth is that he noticed me acting weird before I spoke up. Needlesss to say, once I told him what was going on through my tongue cramps, he had decided it was time to leave the movie--NOW. At first, I felt bad for interrupting our first date night after chemo, but by the time we got to the car, I was glad we were leaving. My hand and tongue continued to spaz and it felt like any moment, I might start having troubles breathing.
Isaac was on the phone immediately with my oncologist, asking what he thought we should do. Dr. Knechtl told us that if we could get to Mount Clemens, that'd be preferable, but if we didn't think we could make it, Henry Ford Macomb ER should suffice. Forming words with a contorted tongue is pretty hard, let me tell you, but I managed to communicate to my husband that Henry Ford sounded best. I didn't know what was happening, and I had become a little worried that my airways were closing. Although Mount Clemens has all my medical records, it's also 15 minutes away, and I wasn't sure if I would make it.
Isaac drove like a bat out of hell the entire 2 miles to the ER while my tongue continued to tense up and my non-rheumatoid claw got even claw-ier. This is where it gets a little funny (now, it is--it wasn't then). The lady at the front desk wanted to have a nice hour-long chat while getting my information before treating me. Isaac was getting furious. After "what is your name, sweetie?", "date of birth?", and "so, what's going on tonight?" he finally blew up and told the lady I was having problems breathing so she would put the bureaucracies aside and get me in. Meanwhile, my tongue muscle was tensing to the point my head had started to arch back in order to open my airway as much as possible to get oxygen to my lungs.
Now, if you're interested in how I felt at this time, take your tongue, open your mouth, and stick it out and down as far as you can. Now push just a little bit further. Yeah--even further. You should be getting hot in the jaw and tired in your tongue. Mine was like that for probably 20 minutes by this point. Compound that with the "arthritis" in my hand, and I wasn't feeling too hot.
Once we were finally back in the ER, the doctor diagnosed me as having a dyastonic drug reaction to the compazine (one of my anti-nausea drugs) I had been taking. Apparently, its fairly common with patients taking this particular medication. He said they would get me started on an IV of Benedryl right away.
Ten minutes later, I had witnessed two entire conversations between the nurses who should have been starting my IV about a weekend event they'd been to. Ten MORE minutes later and I'd also heard about so-and-so's dress and "Oh, can you hand me that chart?"
Seriously?
This had to have been the SLOWEST ER EVER! Finally, about 20 minutes after I'd been told I'd get an IV "right away", the nurse finally came over to start it while still maintaining conversation with another nurse. On top of that, the poor guy must have been new because he kept pulling the temp IV out of my arm, creating a mess of bloody saline that I tried to keep off my white shirt.
Meanwhile, in the background, a 70-something psych patient was trying to escape her gurney while showing off her booty and a 40-something woman was admitted for a dislocated elbow from trying to do a cartwheel. The friend who admitted her was flabbergasted to learn that once they fixed her up and put a cast on it, she wouldn't be able to go jet-skiiing on the lake.
Who would have thought?
By this time, the Benedryl was kicking in, and the seizing in my arms and mouth immediately let up. It was amazing how much more comfortable I was in a matter of mere seconds! However, Benedryl has a sleep-effect on me, so I knocked out for a few minutes. After the doctor had re-vistited us and declared me good to go, we waited for another 20 minutes for someone to remove my IV out so we could head home. You can't win them all, I guess.
I'm happy to also report that the doctor believes the compazine is also the likely culprit for my "crackhead" like behaviors. As it turns out, that might have been my body's less-immediate reaction to the drug because I was metabolizing it so quickly. The cumulative effect, however, was the seizures in my face and arm.
The happy part of this story: I no longer feel like a crackhead. The bad part: it was a little scary to figure out!
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