Well... I promised I would keep you posted on what's going on with the ear situation. I am happy to say that it is 1:32am here and it is officially under control.
So.
I believe when I left you last, my ear was draining more toward the clear-ish, yellow-ish end of the spectrum and I don't think the pain was unbearable. However, that soon changed. Bad news bears. Probably a couple hours later my ear started draining more on the reddish side again and the pain intensified. Immensely.
We headed out to the urgent care doctor, who, I will do my best to objectively describe. I will warn you, not everything here is probably said out of love, because this man was an idiot. I first talked to his nurse, who did a fantastic job listening to what was going on. I was incredibly impressed by her and took that as a good indicator that he would probably be attentive as well. Turns out I was VERY wrong.
This ding dong walked in the door, looked in both ears, and declared that I had an ear infection (which, duh, I could have diagnosed myself with that) and that my infection was focused in the anterior part of my eardrum (aka, the front). Now, first off, neither the ENT in surgery yesterday or my husband could see to my eardrum because of the wax in the way, so how did he? Easy. He didn't. He assumed.
He then also assumed that I was a completely uninformed drug-addict, which, I'll admit, I might have looked like one at that point. However, the point of urgent care is to get quick care for people who would normally go to the ER, but don't feel like they're quite at that point yet. You would think he'd be used to seeing a lot of not-so-good looking people. Anyway, after he wrote me a script for a couple of useless drugs, he proceeded to tell me that even though I'd just had surgery less than 12 hours ago, I shouldn't be taking the pain killers they prescribed until I was in extreme pain; otherwise, Tylenol should be good enough. And the nasal spray that my allergist recommended that has been working fantastically for me--yeah, quit taking that too. Claratin or Benedryl should suffice.
It was at this point I couldn't help but open my mouth and inform the ding dong that I thought it was entirely appropriate to engage in pain PREVENTION rather than waiting until I was miserable to try and control it and that I'd already tried Claratin and Benedryl alongside the other OTC drugs for allergies for YEARS before I realized that the constant drainage in the back of my throat was due to allergies and not a mystical year-round disease that plagued only me.
Now, on TOP of all his baloney, he also was very intentionally inching toward the door the entire 7 minutes we talked. Can I mention that I was the only person in the clinic? Literally. The. only. person. How do I know this for sure you ask? Well, considering we were the only car in the parking lot and I didn't see a soul while in there, I'm just making an educated guess. I don't know what in the world he felt he had to rush off for, but it was sure irritating.
After taking one dose of the crap he prescribed, I felt sick to my stomach. This was my own fault. He had mentioned that I would need to eat with one of them, but I had been so focused on how furious I was that he wasn't even listening or asking questions to figure out what was wrong with me, I had completely forgotten. So, while I was on the floor in the bathroom, shaking from somewhat self-induced nausea, my husband kept track of time for me. The drugs were supposed to kick in after 30 minutes.
Thirty minutes later, I was still shaking--although now more from cold--and in severe pain. It was at this point we started debating which ER to go to. We had two options: Henry Ford or Mount Clemens. Henry Ford is only about 3 minutes away while Mount Clemens is about 15; however, Mount Clemens had all my information already because I'd been there the day before for my Mediport placement. I told Isaac not to worry about my time in the car because I was going to be uncomfortable either way, and really, what is 12 more minutes after I've already been enduring hours of pain.
He dropped me off at the ER door and I felt like death. I could barely keep my eyes open. I'm not sure why, but for some reason, they really wanted to stay shut. I was pale, my lips were SO dry and kind of white because I was breathing shallowly through my mouth because breathing deeply hurt, and breathing through my nose was impossible. They took my blood pressure, which is normally about 90/60 and it was 130/80. WAY high for me. My pulse was also elevated--normally in the mid 60's, it was almost 90. I hadn't just run a marathon or anything either. I'd been sitting still all day because moving hurt my ear and I'd only had to walk about 15 feet to get from the car to the ER door.
They put me in a room and told me the doc would be in soon. She was a young, attentive D.O. who just so happened to be graduating from Michigan State in about a week. Her and Isaac obviously hit it off pretty well after we learned that. She checked things out and said that she couldn't see much because not only was there wax in the way, there was now also pus. Yuck. We told her about our experience in Urgent Care and you could tell she was a little disgusted with that doctor as well. Apparently whenever someone comes in with any type of ear infection, there is a pretty textbook-standard drug to give. He hadn't.
She gave me prescriptions for a heavy-duty oral antibiotic, ear numbing drops, and a liquid ear drop antibiotic as well. The numbing drops were magic from the get-go. She put those suckers in and I started to feel 50% better within five or ten minutes. I might be a little bit off on the time because I actually felt good enough to fall asleep on the table. Isaac would probably know more accurately how long I slept for, but when I woke up from my little nap, I felt tons better.
We left and headed out to get the scripts filled, which Isaac found quite entertaining. Apparently they thought he was a drug addict since we'd already been there once today and two other times so far this week. They had to call the hospital to see if he was actually supposed to be receiving any more drugs or if he was faking scripts. I was a little too delirious to find it funny when he told me, but it's pretty amusing now.
He dropped me off at the house and went to grab us some food because we really hadn't eaten all day and it was almost 8pm. When he got back, it was my turn to pray and I thanked God for good doctors and was tempted to ask Him to curse the bad ones. I ate a little bit, slept for about another hour, and then took my new, smart-doctor prescribed medications. I've felt like a walking miracle ever since. I even started to do some laundry.
Showing posts with label earache. Show all posts
Showing posts with label earache. Show all posts
Jun 24, 2011
Jun 23, 2011
The Good, The Bad, and The Green
WARNING: If you are easily grossed out by the output of bodily fluids, DO NOT READ THIS BLOG. I'm not leaving details out.
With that said, I woke up this morning to Isaac's alarm, screaming for me to take my next round of antibiotics, pain killers, and nasal decongestant. I walked into the bathroom and while doing so, realized that my airways were super-blocked. It was like breathing through a clogged filter. Not exactly easy. I took a deep breath in, which caused me to start to hack like a life-long smoker, but along with the hacking came phlegm. Large amounts of THICK, DEEP, GREEN phlegm. Like, this first chunk was easily as big as two peas. Nasty stuff. However, it felt absolutely great to get it out of my lungs, or wherever it was coming from, so I kept coughing away. My husband said the color indicated that it was infection coming out of my body.
Next came my nose. First I was just dripping a little bit, so I decided to gently blow. Again, TONS of thick green-yellow mucus. You know that feeling when you go to blow and you can just feel things waving around in there? Yeah, that is what it was like in my nose this morning. Isaac said to blow gently though instead of forcefully because it would be less likely to irritate my ear. I obeyed, even though I really wanted to just pound it out of there. There was one blow that I can say with confidence removed at least 1/4 oz of mucus. It just about filled up the Kleenex. I literally stood in the bathroom this morning for 15 minutes, alternating between coughing phlegm up and gently blowing mucus out of my nose.
After about 7 or 8 of those interesting minutes, I felt something like a bubble pop in my right ear. It wasn't as painful of a pop as before, but it felt like a little bubble had burst in my ear. I was immediately nervous, after my experience the previous morning, and had just opened my mouth to holler for Isaac to come into the bathroom when tons of pressure was relieved from my ear. It felt SO good!!!! I turned to look in the mirror again and was a little bit shocked to see fluid running from my ear, down my lobe, and onto my neck. I decided he should probably know about this....
"Uh.... Isaac?? My ear is leaking!"
"Huh?"
"My ear is leaking fluids... lots of fluids, but it feels so much better."
"What does it look like? Is it red? Pink? What color?"
By this time he had made his way into the bathroom to check it out for himself. I'd grabbed a couple Q-tips and gently held them in my ear to help remove the drainage. The first one came out kind of reddish. But not blood red. More like, I scratched my knee a couple days ago and now there is a reddish, orange-ish, yellow-tinted scab on it. That color of red. The second one came out with a little bit of wax and the fluid was more of a deep brown with a tint of red. (I showed all these to Isaac) The last two were more of a clear fluid with a tint of pink. Somewhere in that mix, a big chunk of brown-red-yellow wax came out as well. I was hoping it was the piece that had been blocking everyone's view yesterday. Maybe now they'd be able to see something and fix it.
We debated heading out to urgent care, which around here, is similar to the ER, but much quicker. Since it felt so good to have all that come out, I was in favor of waiting for a little bit to see what would happen. Maybe that was a stupid idea. Who knows? Isaac was okay with that so long as the pain didn't get worse and the drainage didn't turn more red.
This all started about an hour ago and since the original drainage, my ear has leaked three more times. I am happy to say that each time is less red and more toward the yellow-clear range. I still have no idea what is wrong with it, and the fact that it is leaking stuff (and normal, healthy ears don't) is probably a good indicator that I should get it checked out.... so we will probably be going to the doctor later on today.
I guess that's one way to get to know people out here.
With that said, I woke up this morning to Isaac's alarm, screaming for me to take my next round of antibiotics, pain killers, and nasal decongestant. I walked into the bathroom and while doing so, realized that my airways were super-blocked. It was like breathing through a clogged filter. Not exactly easy. I took a deep breath in, which caused me to start to hack like a life-long smoker, but along with the hacking came phlegm. Large amounts of THICK, DEEP, GREEN phlegm. Like, this first chunk was easily as big as two peas. Nasty stuff. However, it felt absolutely great to get it out of my lungs, or wherever it was coming from, so I kept coughing away. My husband said the color indicated that it was infection coming out of my body.
Next came my nose. First I was just dripping a little bit, so I decided to gently blow. Again, TONS of thick green-yellow mucus. You know that feeling when you go to blow and you can just feel things waving around in there? Yeah, that is what it was like in my nose this morning. Isaac said to blow gently though instead of forcefully because it would be less likely to irritate my ear. I obeyed, even though I really wanted to just pound it out of there. There was one blow that I can say with confidence removed at least 1/4 oz of mucus. It just about filled up the Kleenex. I literally stood in the bathroom this morning for 15 minutes, alternating between coughing phlegm up and gently blowing mucus out of my nose.
After about 7 or 8 of those interesting minutes, I felt something like a bubble pop in my right ear. It wasn't as painful of a pop as before, but it felt like a little bubble had burst in my ear. I was immediately nervous, after my experience the previous morning, and had just opened my mouth to holler for Isaac to come into the bathroom when tons of pressure was relieved from my ear. It felt SO good!!!! I turned to look in the mirror again and was a little bit shocked to see fluid running from my ear, down my lobe, and onto my neck. I decided he should probably know about this....
"Uh.... Isaac?? My ear is leaking!"
"Huh?"
"My ear is leaking fluids... lots of fluids, but it feels so much better."
"What does it look like? Is it red? Pink? What color?"
By this time he had made his way into the bathroom to check it out for himself. I'd grabbed a couple Q-tips and gently held them in my ear to help remove the drainage. The first one came out kind of reddish. But not blood red. More like, I scratched my knee a couple days ago and now there is a reddish, orange-ish, yellow-tinted scab on it. That color of red. The second one came out with a little bit of wax and the fluid was more of a deep brown with a tint of red. (I showed all these to Isaac) The last two were more of a clear fluid with a tint of pink. Somewhere in that mix, a big chunk of brown-red-yellow wax came out as well. I was hoping it was the piece that had been blocking everyone's view yesterday. Maybe now they'd be able to see something and fix it.
We debated heading out to urgent care, which around here, is similar to the ER, but much quicker. Since it felt so good to have all that come out, I was in favor of waiting for a little bit to see what would happen. Maybe that was a stupid idea. Who knows? Isaac was okay with that so long as the pain didn't get worse and the drainage didn't turn more red.
This all started about an hour ago and since the original drainage, my ear has leaked three more times. I am happy to say that each time is less red and more toward the yellow-clear range. I still have no idea what is wrong with it, and the fact that it is leaking stuff (and normal, healthy ears don't) is probably a good indicator that I should get it checked out.... so we will probably be going to the doctor later on today.
I guess that's one way to get to know people out here.
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.
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)