I’d been skating on thin ice for weeks, dealing with daily pain and my eyes were definitely juandiced. I knew I was about to fall sick, the question was when. 2 weeks ago, I was thrown into a crushing series of L3’s uncontrolled by meds. This hit me right after work, when I was on the way home. I could attribute it to the change in weather, but all I know is that my ass was laid out in pain.
Norio took one look at my face and said, “You’re going to the hospital.” For once I didn’t argue, just gingerly put my shoes on and a thick coat. It was a fast admission, and I was in lala-land approximately 45 minutes after I got into the hospital. My hematocrit was 7.5, which for me is low but not low enough to transfuse. The ED docs wanted to admit me anyway, so I went for it.
I was hooked up to a Fentanyl PCA, which left me dealing with hardcore constipation and drinking prune juice like water. The first few days were a blur of myriad images and hallucinations, the only constant was Norio’s soothing presence. I remember one time I was zonked out fighting demons in my nightmares, and all I could hear was his voice talking to the nurse, and that was enough to calm down. By day 4, I was lucid, and day 6, I was ready to come home. I hate being in the hospital, I feel like my life is being wasted with every minute I’m a patient there.
My discharge was on Friday, and I spent the weekend recuperating, gearing up for work on Monday. On Sunday I had a burst of energy and decided to clean the apartment from top to bottom, the dead flowers were really starting to bother me. I even went ahead and made dinner, slipping into sexy lingerie before Norio came home.
Except by the time he got home an hour later, I was shivering under the blanket, heat blasting on 90 degrees. He was surprised to find me decked out in a sexy outfit, but unfortunately I couldn’t use it, I was in that much pain. Grrrrr!
He took me to the hospital a few minutes later (yes, I did change my outfit), and then I went through my hellish ER experience. That’s a story for another day. I was in the hospital for a whole ‘nother week, and even I wanted to throw in the towel when 2 days after my blood transfusion I still wasn’t feeling better. Add to that, my HR department let me know that if I was out of work for more than 30 days I would lose my job…thanks fuckers!
Added to that, there was some family drama going on—people really do have bad timing. The bright spots were that I once again felt the outpouring of love from my family and friends, even my former boss sent me a huge gift basket. I was more than ready to go home when the Dr. asked me, I didn’t even wait for him to finish. The nurse pulled out my PICC line and it was like losing my best buddy, that PICC line helped me when all my veins crapped out.
All in all, I was home for the weekend and then had to drag myself into work on Monday.