The Emergency

Friday, October 15^th, 2010

WOW! I really cannot move my left arm at all, I have to use my right to pick it up. We have another doctor’s appointment this morning at 9am, but Jeremy has a chiropractor appointment at 8:15. I struggle to get out of bed, and get to the bathroom as fast as I can and vomit. I thought right away to get out the thermometer and take the temp – 101. OK, “JEREMY! Call the doctor, NOW! And lets get in the car and head to Corvallis.” I am scared, in pain, Jeremy is talking to doctor’s and I am trying really hard to focus on something else besides the pain and how long it really takes to get to Corvallis. Faddis wants me to come in immediately.

We get there, Jeremy finds a wheelchair, and we head on up to the offices. They get me settled in and Dr. Faddis will be there soon. They admit to the hospital at 9:20am, I have some sort of infection and they need to get me on antibiotics right away – Vancomycin. Now, if you aren’t familiar with this drug, it is a big and powerful drug that is designed to wipe out small villages (ok, not really, but it is a big daddy). They use it for MRSA which is a resistant staph infection to normal kinds of antibiotics so they were shooting at this. I was terrified. Cultures take 48 hours to get back so Sunday morning we would know what we were dealing with. As for now, my pain was incredible, I was terrified, and this nightmare was really true.

They get me sedated with quite a bit of dilaudid – 2mg, through my IV and I can only feel a little unease. Finally. Jeremy leaves for his chiropractic appointment and is back to meet Dr. Mooth, my infectious disease doctor. He asks me all the questions I have been asked by so many and the amazing one was how did I know to take my temperature. He thought that was strange. I explained I was married before and was very familiar with infections and my ex and knew you didn’t play around with them. He just couldn’t get over the fact that I knew to call and noticed something different. I explained to him my awesome week and how things were going really well, I wasn’t just laying around and saying pity me, but rather I was up and trying to get on with my life. This wasn’t enough to confine me to a bed or lazy boy. So, I knew when I was headed down hill there was something wrong and needed to call. I guess everyone should be more in-tuned with their bodies.

After all the awes and ohs, we move on to me and the plan. They are checking me for infection, cultures take 48 hours, will have them Sunday morning. Until then I would be on Vancomycin and the ‘F’ name drug (can’t remember name) until we knew what we were dealing with. I did have an allergic reaction to the Vanco, but they gave me benadryl and I was good. The itching and redness stopped. And Jeremy left the hospital – the hunting couldn’t wait, and he had a friend in town that was waiting to go out. He would be back later when he was done.

He came back around 8pm and was exhausted and just wanted to go home and get to bed for he had to get ready for hunting the next day. Really, he was going the next day too. What part of wife in hospital doesn’t make sense? What part of I am in pain, can’t keep food down, and am on Vanco doesn’t register? This isn’t some walk in the park. And right now you don’t have to take time off to be here for me. Nope, he was going, he had this planned. Amazing, the thought process.

I go to bed, more tears, lonely, scared, I think this is when my 'I can' attitude says bite me and take a hike. There is nothing worse than feeling alone and dejected, nothing.....