Hello All,
We are 24 days
into the New Year and I'm not sure if you noticed, but this is my first post of
2016. Why you ask? Well to sum of the last 24 days, I've been sick. Yup, 2016
has not been good to me.
Sunday,
January 3rd, I went to bed and felt a tickle in my throat. The tickle evolved
into a sore throat with a dry cough. I was hoarse by Tuesday with a burning
throat I could only compare to how the Cullens described the eternal burn of
blood lust. Outside of not craving blood, by the 4th day, not only had I not
become a sparking vampire, but I know had a stuffy nose. Food had lost its
taste and my nose was bright red.
This amazing
cold hung on for almost another week. On Friday the 15th, I woke up, slightly
stuffy but feeling pretty good. My morning routine went as usual and I was in
my car on my way to work when the first pain wormed across by back. At first I
thought it was a spasm so I turned the heated seat up in the car and tried to
ignore it as I made my 45 minute commute. As I pulled into a parking spot as
work, I questioned if I would be able to get out of the car and drag my purse,
laptop bag and lunch bag into the building and up the flight of stairs to my
office. If it wasn't for the fact that I had meds and a heating pad in my desk,
I might have just sat in the car.
The walk was grueling but
I made it. I plopped down at my desk gulped down meds before I even took my
coat off. Of course there were other in my office and my ego refused to let
others see I needed help. I slowly got my laptop going, put my coat away, and
got my heating pad going. Are you wondering what I did to my back? Ha! I was
too. Somehow, I had a sneaking feeling that I hadn't pulled a muscle in my back
and it was actually a Sickle Cell Anemia Crisis. For those of you who do not
know, Sickle Cell Anemia is a hereditary blood
disorder, caused by an abnormality in
the oxygen-carrying protein haemoglobin found in red blood cells. cells to assume an abnormal, rigid, sickle-like shape under certain circumstances. Sickle-cell
disease is associated with a number of acute and chronic health problems, such
as severe infections, attacks of severe pain ("sickle-cell crisis"), stroke, and an increased risk of death. (Okay don't judge
me, I used Wikipedia for this short snippet https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sickle-cell_disease.
But there are a lot of other websites out there too if you'd like to know
more.)
I'd already taken meds and all I could do was wait and hope they would
kick in soon and I could somewhat function sitting upright. No such luck. I
gave up the battle about 2 hours into my work day. I thankfully work for a
awesome place that was cool with me working from home. My boss offered to carry
my stuff back to the car, but that damn ego of mine, I refused. The drive home
was just as bad and it took everything in me to get out of the car, walk down
the few steps to my door, then get my shoes off, climb the first flight of
stairs to get my coat off only to climb the second flight of stairs, and
tenderly lay down on the bed with a heating pad under my back. My husband came
home to me laying flat on by back trying to type an email.
Sigh, the crisis went on all weekend and by Monday morning I had to call
my Primary Care to be seen. My poor back was sore to the touch, my ribs hurt
and I couldn't seem to get a full breath of air. Test were run and my doc
wanted to see me bright in early Tuesday morning. If I was still a mess, the
next step would have been a trip to the ED. On Tuesday, I was told I needed bed
rest and as long as I was saturated with fluids (2-3 quarts a day) I should be
able to flush my system of what the doctor believed was a mild case of Acute
Chest Syndrome, which could have been caused by a Fatty
Embolism. (Yay me!)
Hubby and I went home with a goal: drink, drink, drink. With a pulse
rate/oxygen reader, and thermometer and lots of fluids we made sure
the next step would not be the hospital. My next doctor's appointment was
Friday, and if things weren't looking up I would need a blood transfusion. Can
I tell you it was a long week, but when I walked into the doc's office Friday
morning I was feeling better, well all except for the fact that my heart was
racing and I had a weird heart palpitation. My new symptoms got
me hooked up to an EKG machine (first time ever, but wouldn't be the last of
the day). These new symptoms got us a "congratulation, you did well
keeping hydrated and getting the crud out of your lung, but now you
need to go to the hospital. We'll call the ER to let them know you're on your
way. It'll be a long day so stop and get something to eat before you head
in." Damn it!
To this day I have yet to be hospitalized for a Sickle Cell Crisis (33
years and still counting!), but this would be the second time that I would need
to walk through those ER doors due to the aftermath of a crisis. Out of breath
from the walk from the parking lot and with hubby in tow, carrying what he
called my "bug out bag" (Archer reference) I checked into the
hospital. UGH what a nightmare. It was a Friday afternoon and the ER was
cray-cray. After quickly running my vitals, which involved them putting those
sticky things back on for another EKG, and the guy (not sure what his title
was) got a nice flash of my boobs sitting perfectly in by bra-this I
may add too, was weird as my husband is standing there watching the whole
thing- I was giving a bed that was right up against the nurses'
station. Yup, no curtain or divider, and no way I was changing
into that skimpy little blue gown.
Hubby and I sat down next to each other on my bed and watch the ER move
past us. About an hour into the wait, a nurse walked over and told me they were
going to get an IV going for me. I explain that my veins sucked and they are
deep and roll. (This would only be the third time I was stuck this week.) The
first nurse feels around for what she thought would be a good vein to jab. A
few moments of her rooting around in my arm (yes, I could feel her moving the
needle inside my body), she calls another nurse over to take over. Nurse number
2 jumps in and continues to root around before giving up on
that arm and seeking a nice plump vein to stab on my other arm. There was
digging around in my right arm, by now my eyes are closed and I was
leaning against hubby, by heart which when I came into the ER
was clocked at 119 beats per min was banging loudly in my ears. Finally, she
gave up on that arm too and stated she put a call in for the IV unit to come
help, because besides her only one other person was better than her at getting
the IV in. (Note- this lovely nurse's cockiness wouldn't be the last).
While we waited for the IV tactical unit I happily walked off
with my transporter for my second chest X-ray of the week. (There was no point
of them wheeling my bed over there, I was still in my street clothes, and with
no IV, so we left my husband sitting on my bed while they zapped me
with radiation. When the next transporter came to take me for the
CAT-Scan, we informed her that I still didn't have an IV, which I would we told
her it was needed so they could inject me with the dyes for the test. (I
understand that her job was to transport patients from location to location,
but after she informed my husband "you gotta move", she question the
fact that we knew what we were talking about. We assumed that when she never
came back, that we were right and I couldn't have the CAT-Scan until they put
an IV line into me.) This is when the third nurse steps up to insert a sharp
object into my body. I asked about the PICC nurse/IV unit who was supposed to
come and give me the IV. She stared at me as if I was nutty and claimed there
would be no reason for them to do that and that she would be the one to give me the
IV. She also promised me that she wouldn't poke me unless she
was positive that she could get the IV in. After using a
blood pressure cuff to that was so tight on my arm that my fingers
had stopped tingling and were purple she missed. On her second attempt she
proceeded to tell me who she doesn't like to be poked either. This in my mind
was a jack ass thing to say and from my understanding that I needed to man
up. She was only number 3 in the meat market line holding a ticking to take a
stab at a piece of meat. She wiggles the needle around inside my
body jabbing and poking everything but the HUGE vein
she was sure she could get. The saliva began to swell in my
mouth and I became lightheaded and nauseous. In an attempt to get her
out of my arm, I told her of my new symptoms. She mildly
said "Oh, do you want me to get you a bucket?" as she forged
further into my arm-who the hell knew those needles were so long. She
missed the second time too...
She seemed shock since she was
one of the best on the floor, but good news for me, there was ONE more nurse
who was even better. SHE was so good that in her long-standing career she had
even once drawn blood from a stone. The same dance commenced, she even
filled 2 gloves with warm water to help bring my veins out. According to her, I
have scar tissue in by veins and this is why all those who have jabbed before
her had trouble. All of her old school tricks and still no IV. I was a hot
sweaty mess, shaking like a leaf with by heart rate going through the roof. The
plus side to being stuck 5 times was I was finally put in a room and hooked up
to a monitor, which showed my heart rate was through the roof. As they
moved me, I asked my husband what that made me if the nurse #4 could get blood
from a rock.
It had been 5 hours since I was admitted to the ER. When I asked could I
have some water to maybe help hydrate me to maybe help with my veins, I was
told that being hydrated wouldn't help. So yes, I was in the ER, heart racing,
plus it was still doing that dumb flip floppy thing, I'd been stuck 5 times and
I had yet to have an IV so I could get the CAT-Scan. That's when my new nurse
came in. She insisted that I change into my gown now that I was in a room and
she also insisted on checking to see my veins, but promised not to poke me.
Which she didn't. This is when another nurse storms in and starts checking my
veins. There was no introduction and she blew off the fact that the other
nurses claimed to have called a doctor to come do an ultrasound to locate my
veins. She made this Ultrasound doctor sound like as much of a mystical
creature as the IV unit nurse who was called HOURS before that. After kindly
asking her not to poke me and that I was okay with waiting for
the ultrasound doctor, she slammed down the blood
pressure said something about fine let it be someone
else's problem and stormed out the room.
This was when we met the head nurse and found out the team that was
"called" hours before for the ultrasound was going home for the day.
But not to worry, the head nurse was going to get that IV in. Thankfully, the
6th time the IV went in and then we got to sit there for another hour before I
went for the CAT-Scan. The results came back fast and I was informed that all
looked good and I could go home. When the doctor who reviewed my charts came
in, I asked him that if everything looked good, why my heart was still racing
and flopping around in my chest. This was the first time he stopped to listen
to my heart. Moments later I was informed that they were admitting
me because there was a spot on my X-Ray they overlooked the first time and
the fact that my heart was racing. (Well crap).
I was in my room by 9pm, I then for the 4th (maybe more) time that day
explained to the doctor that this all started with a Sickle Cell Anemia
Crisis (which I had been over for a few days now). I also had to explain to
them what SCD was...this made me feel like my health was in great hands. After
being informed that what I needed to do was stay hydrated (hmm, it was
after 9 hours since I had lunch and was refused water when I asked) and
keep moving, I would only received fluids over night. I'm sure if you
have ever stayed in a hospital at night you know how much sleep I got. The
following morning after once again explaining what SCD was, twice, I was told I
could go home. Discharge took another 3 and half hours. This was when my
husband noticed he couldn't find not so cheap Victoria's Secret bra
in my bug out bag. To top my trip off when the nurse removed my IV she didn't
tape down my gauze well enough and I bled all over
my favorite sweater. Sigh, I've had that sweater for about
15 years! That's longer than I've know my husband.
I remember going on our second day and wearing that sweater.
I am now home, with a sour stomach (the least of all of
my problems). But my lungs are clear, my heart stopped
that palpation and only races if I move around too much. The crisis
is over and my back is only slightly sore now. I realized on Monday sometime I
lost my Fitbit (it hasn't tracked my steps since then). I must have dropped it
trying to get in and out of all of my layers of clothes going to the doc. And
when I jumped on the scale, after having a very small appetite for the
last week, I've found I have not lost any weight. Through all of this, I'm
happy to be home and hope to be back to myself soon. Let's hope 2016 can only
get better from here!
