Birthing Pains & Family Love

Last week Isaac and I were looking at the calendar to figure out when I would be able to go home and shave my head.  We ended up with a couple options: either this past weekend, or the weekend of the 4th of July.  If we chose this past weekend, I would have to go by myself, but I'd have the opportunity to be there from Friday night til Tuesday morning.  If we did the 4th of July, we'd get to go together, but we'd only be there from mid-day Saturday until mid-day Sunday, plus there would be the chance that my hair would already be falling out because chemotherapy starts June 29th.  We talked about it quite a bit on Thursday, but still hadn't arrived at any conclusions.

So I thought.

Then, Friday when he got home from class around 2:30, he asked why I was still there.  I nearly quit breathing for a minute.  I wanted to go home so badly, but I trust that the pain of being separated from my Iowa family will benefit our marriage and so I wasn't going to push too hard.  I asked if he was joking or serious and when he said he was serious, I slowly started to pack, trying not to show how excited I was.

He noticed.

Next think I know, I'm hearing, "Hey, babe.  It's okay for you to be excited to go home."  I have the best, most observant husband ever.  I probably smiled the size of Texas and started running around frantically, grabbing this and that until I thought I had everything I might need for a weekend stay in Iowa.  I was packed in 15 minutes.  My poor husband.  I noticed that he looked a little hurt that I was in such a hurry to leave so I stopped what I was doing and sat on his lap and asked if his feelings were hurt.  They were.  Bummer.  I told him I hadn't meant to do that.  Thankfully, it was more a miscommunication than anything.  He thought I was excited to leave him.  I carefully explained that I love him very much, but I was just excited that I was able to go home (possibly one last time) before I was done with chemotherapy.  Once we got that sorted out, I hit the road.

Driving there was actually pretty quick.  At least, it felt like it.  In reality, it took a little over 10 hours.  I pulled in around 1:30am Saturday morning and lo and behold, Mom was still up.  She came running outside in her pajamas and helped me get my things in and upstairs to my brother's old room.  We talked for a little bit and by 2:30am, I had fallen asleep mid-conversation in a chair in living room.  After waking me up, we both went upstairs and went to bed.

Saturday morning I was hanging out on the couch and Court came downstairs.  She was shocked and then a little annoyed because nobody told her I was coming.  Mom and I then went into the salon and we cut my hair off. I had a good time surprising Jess too!  She screamed, cried, and jumped into the wall because she was so shocked.  Gotta love her.  I was a little nervous, so I asked Erin to cut it a little longer than I should have.  We then lightened it a little bit because it looked like I was wearing a helmet (in my opinion).  Afterward, Mom and I made a trip to Des Moines because I needed some facewash and she wanted something to hold her over between colors.  On our way back home, we stopped by to surprise Ike.  I think we succeeded.

Once home, I decided to lighten my brows because they didn't match my hair and shorten my hair a little bit more.  Mom and I used Dad's clippers and took about another 1/4" off.  I liked it better.  Then we went to meet up with Jess for a late lunch at Chinese Homestyle.  If you've never been there and you love Chinese and live in Ames, you're completely missing out.  It is wicked good stuff!  Then, we needed dessert so we headed over to Chocolaterie Stam and got some gelato and chocolate truffles filled with creme fraiche.  SOOOO GOOOODDDD!!!!!  We ran into an old family friend and got caught up with him.  He also gave me the name of a woman he'd met through rotary who had/has breast cancer.  She apparently loves to talk with people about her experience and he was able to give me her name and email.  I love running into people I know.

Sunday morning rolled around and we went to the 9am at Cornerstone.  It was like walking into a big giant hug from a long-lost friend.  I got a million hugs and got to see many good friends and met some new ones.  However, after celebrating Dad with my Iowa family and Jess, I started to feel a little bit under the weather.  I thought I was getting a fever--and what better cure than sleeping in the sun?  We headed out to the pool and got there around 4 for a couple hours of nice sun sleeping.

When we got home, I didn't feel any worse or better, but I was awfully cold for feeling so hot.  Mom whipped out the thermometer and took my temp: 99 degrees.  So it was a little higher than normal... I could easily sleep that off.  By 9pm though, I wasn't thinking sleep would be enough.  Mom called Isaac, who recommended I use Zicam every 3 hours throughout the night and go to the doctor if my temperature went above 101.  I set my alarm for every 3 hours and took my temp every time I woke up to take another pill.  At 4am, it was at 100.4; at 5:30, it hit 100.7 degrees.  Mom thought that was close enough to 101 degrees to qualify for a visit to the doctor.

We called my oncologist to see what he thought, as well as the surgeon who was going to put my Mediport in later in the week.  Both of them recommended waiting a little bit longer, as fevers often peak and then fall.  Turns out they knew what they were talking about.  I never hit the magical 101 degrees.  At 10am, my temp had dropped to around 96 degrees.  I was feeling pretty good and wanted to go visit some of my friends, but my husband strongly advised against it--especially since 2 of the people I wanted to visit had little ones who I would feel awful if I got sick.

Thankfully, one of my life-long angels, Lydia, offered to come over and hang out with me on Monday.  I encouraged her to take some Vitamin C before coming, but I don't think it worried her all that much.  We chatted for a bit, went to grab some food at Thai Kitchen (my first time EVER there) and then she came to the doctor with me as well. Oh--about the doctor...  After we got back from eating, my temperature had started to go up again (though only to 99) and Mom insisted I go see a family practice doctor.  They did some bloodwork and my white blood cell count was up, indicating my body was trying to fight something off, although we couldn't see it.  The doc perscribed 1000mg of antibiotics twice a day to help fight off anything bacterial.  Anyway, Lydia was sweet enough to stick around while I took a nap.  It was nice just to have her there with me, even though I didn't feel too great.

She had to leave for connection group eventually, and Mom and I went to the mall because we'd been there earlier in the week and bought some clothes.  It just so happened that AFTER we bought them, we found coupons and felt the need to go and return and re-purchase everything so we could use the coupons.  Later on that night, I started to get a sore neck.  I thought it was probably from the pillow that Mom had on my bed.  I'd describe it as more aesthetic than functional... it was about 7" thick and only smooshed down to maybe 3".  I normally sleep on one that only starts out at about 3" thick.  Needless to say, it didn't surprise me that I was developing a stiff neck.  I slept on a hot pad for a couple hours and then it was completely gone.

Once again, I felt pretty good in the morning, so I set out for home with confidence.  A couple hours down the road, my sore throat had moved up into my ears and felt like an ear infection.  My sore throat had also gotten worse--to the point I was breathing shallow and avoiding swallowing unless it was an absolute must.  I'm not sure if I had a fever or not because although I do carry a utility knife in my car, I don't carry a thermometer.  In addition, I started to show symptoms of wry neck--a condition I've had once before where your neck slowly stiffens to the point where you can't turn it at all and any movement (including bumps in the road) send flares of extreme pain throughout your neck region and down your spinal cord.  The only thing you can do about it is to use a heating pad on it and try to stretch your neck muscles out as often as you can.  Last time it happened I missed my brother's high school graduation and open house because I couldn't move.

Anyway, all of this was just getting worse and worse and on top if it, I started crying because I was so uncomfortable, I missed my husband, and I missed my Iowa family--even though I just left them.  I called my husband and he instructed me to stop at the nearest Wal-Mart and grab some Gatorade, Chloroseptic lozenges to numb my throat, and Ibuprofin for my neck and headache.  I accidentally hit a van with my car door when I was leaving but I was so miserable I didn't leave a note.  Thankfully, the Ibuprofin kicked in pretty quickly and took my headache away and reduced the swelling in my neck.  I read the directions on the lozenges and it said for adults to take 1 every 2 hours.  I decided that between 3-4 every hour would be better.  I honestly don't think that 1 every 2 hours would have done ANYTHING.  As it was, they only numbed my throat when I was sucking on them and the effects weren't cumulative by any means, so I just kept popping them in.

By the time I was 2 hours from home I felt like I would rather die than keep driving.  But I was sooo close.  I dug my stubborn feet in and drove 3 miles over the speed limit the rest of the way--while it was downpouring.  Looking back, that might not have been the safest thing to do, but it felt right at the moment.  I was planning on surprising Isaac so I hadn't told him how close I was for a couple hours.  Plus, I didn't want to worry him with how I was feeling.  The plan was to get home and carry what I could of my stuff up to the apartment and getting the rest later.  However, I'm married to superman, so before I even had shut the car off, he was running out of the apartment in the rain to help carry my things in.

So much for surprising him.  Instead, I was the one being surprised.  Later, he informed me that both him and Mom had been tracking me via an app on my phone.  Dumb technology ruined my surprise, but I was so thankful that he was there.  It was a HUGE relief.

Then began the worst night I've had in a long while.

I had arrived around 10:30pm.  Isaac made me eat a whole bowl of Campbell's Chunky Chicken Noodle soup with extra salt and a large glass of grape Kool-Aid.  We talked for a bit and then I took a really hot shower and went to bed.  Or, maybe I should say I tried.

From midnight til 3am I was up on and off, trying to get comfortable with my various ailments.  I slept pretty soundly from 3-5 and then woke up to an extremely painful right ear.  My left ear felt fantastic, but my right... it was a completely different story.  It felt like it was super hot and swelling shut.  We weren't supposed to be at the doctor until 7am, so I decided to read my Bible and get on the computer until Isaac's alarm went off at 6:10am.  He hasn't been sleeping very well himself and didn't even come to bed until around 3.  And since I was in such pain, I figured Job was a good place to start.  If there was anyone who should be able to relate to suffering, it'd be him.  Of course, one of he first things I read is a verse that said, "Shall we accept good from God and not trouble?"  I took that as a sign to endure the pain.  It was the worst I thought I'd ever felt in my ear--ever.  At 6am, I decided it was time to take my pre-surgery shower.

BAD.  IDEA.

A few seconds after stepping under the beautiful, hot stream of water, my ear popped.  Not a small pop either.  It hurt so badly I stifled a scream and started to involuntarily cry.  I was so shocked I threw myself into the shower wall and grabbed at my ear.  Thankfully, after a split second of that, the pain went away and I was praising God it was over.

Turns out it wasn't.

About fifteen seconds after the initial pop, another one happened and I reacted the same way.  And then another and another and another.  By about the fifth time, I accidentally let the scream out and woke Isaac, who came bleary-eyed into the bathroom to see what was going on.  My poor, sweet, sensitive husband....

He was trying to comfort me and ask what was wrong but I was in so much pain I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs at him as he was telling me to calm down.  I felt like there was a knife being plunged into my eardrum again and again and again.  I wanted to punch something, transfer the pain to someone or something else.  I knew he was trying to help me though, so I refrained.  I would have felt awful if I had.  He helped me get out of the shower and dry off and after witnessing another episode, decided we needed to leave for the hospital--NOW.  As I tried to put clothes on, I wasn't sure if I was going to either faint or throw up from the pain.  Thankfully neither happened.

Upon arriving, the receptionist got my information quickly and directed me upstairs to the outpatient surgery ward.  The sweet lady checked us in and then asked if we knew we were there over an hour early.  Isaac told her what was going on and she immediately went to fetch a nurse.  By this time, it had been about 20 minutes since I'd had a "pop" and I thought they might be over.  The nurse came out and asked what was wrong and I told her as best I could, but I got the feeling she wasn't really understanding.  She took me back to a room and told me to pee in a cup and then change into my surgery gown.  I had visits from her, the IV tech, my doctor, an ENT doctor, and the anesthesiologist.  I was getting frustrated and feeling ignored because although I'd been seen by several people, nobody seemed to understand that when I said I was in pain, I didn't mean the type of pain you get when you stub your toe.  I meant the type of pain that feels like I'm birthing a premature child through my eardrum.  Like I'm being stabbed.

Somewhere along the line, my ear acted up again and thankfully, the nurse was present to witness what happened.  She had been sharing a sympathy story that was actually quite irritating, telling me in an "I know what you're talking about" voice that once upon a time her ears had bubbled too and because it had been chronic, she now had tubes in for the next 5 years.  I had just started to tell her that this was WAY beyond bubbling when it popped.  I guess seeing is believing.  She immediately stopped what she was doing and said she'd be right back; they were going to knock me out.

Thank you, Jesus.


They started my IV and minutes later I was out cold.  They woke me up just in time to knock me out again for the Mediport placement surgery.  I really don't remember much of anything after that first round of stuff to put me out though.  When I started to wake up after surgery, they moved me to an upright chair, covered me in blankets, and offered me juice and painkillers.  I was starving and my stomach hurt, (from my starvation, I thought) and so I took the juice down pretty quickly.  Not too long after, the nurse came over to take my IV out and then started to help me stand so I could head home.

I told her I thought I was going to puke on her.  Poor lady... she explained to me that they would need to start another IV and feed me sugar water through it as well as give me a couple of injections of anti-nausea medicine.  Bring it on.  I felt so nasty that another poke actually sounded good.  Unfortunately, I ended up puking anyway.  But I felt SOOOO much better afterward.  After I'd taken in most of the sugar water, they asked how I was feeling and then took my second IV out.  I changed back into my clothes and then they wheeled me out to the curb, where Isaac picked me up.

We got home and I fell asleep for a little bit.  At 2:30pm, Mom called to check on me and make sure I'd taken my drugs because at some point while I was asleep, my husband had to leave for some school stuff and he'd called her to ask her to check in.  He also asked one of his classmates, Jenna, to stop by and check on me as well.  She was sweet and brought me water and saltines.  We talked for a couple hours and then I started feeling drowsy again.  She left and I fell asleep and woke up only when my alarm went off to take my next dose of meds.  And that is how the rest of the night has went.

Sleep.  Drugs.  Saltines.  Ginger Ale.  Sleep.  Drugs.  Iron Chef.  Sleep.  Call Mom.  Chicken Noodle Soup. Brother Ike called.  Blog... and now I'm going to sleep again.

Talk to you later, loved ones.