Saturday, November 8, 2014

She's aliiiiive.

It's day 9 of my 10 day quarantine. It appears the world has kept on spinning without me and I have missed the first week of November. What a shame. Some celebrities ate at some restaurant and had their photo taken and posted to some website. Some teams won some sporting events. Some professors assigned some homework. Some weather happened. Some election took place. Or so I'm told.

In the last ten days, I have seen a total of five people aside from the dozens of doctors and hospital personnel (and the friends who let me sleep on their couch that I briefly saw for five minutes while I was high on morphine. Thanks again for your love and comfy couch). I'm not complaining, really. I needed the time to heal. Also in the last ten days, I've received phone calls, texts, messages, emails, Facebook posts, cards, and letters all with well wishes and prayers. I feel so loved and I thank everyone who has checked on me or sent up a prayer on my behalf.

You don't know dependence on another person until you have had to be held upright while you sit on the toilet, have bath time supervised, ask someone else to wash and dry your hair, have every meal, snack, and drink prepared and brought to your bedside, be handed the medication that is two inches out of your reach, or be dressed while you lay on your bed crying in pain. I see why the elderly don't want to move into nursing homes. I have seen a glimpse of my future and I do not like it. Hopefully, any more permanent dependence is at least five decades away.

I feel as though I have done nothing for the past week. Not that I could, really. But for someone who enjoys a busy lifestyle, I have felt lazy to just lay here, alternating taking medications, sleeping, and watching Netflix. It was like a vacation from life that I didn't plan or ask for. But most often in my sickly life journey, I don't get to decide when to rest and take a few days break, but rather, it is decided for me. So maybe, I just needed the rest. I should be caught up on sleep for the rest of the semester. Maybe since I was so sick this last week, I will get to skip being sick for finals week, as I always am. It hasn't failed yet, but I am already praying it does.

Being sickly takes its toll on you, physically and mentally. My body should be well rested, but my spirit is exhausted. I feel weak and frail. I feel a little down. I feel no desire to get up, do homework, or do anything besides continue in my Netflix binge watching and sleeping. I'm tired. I'm worn. I'm hoping a busy week and some time with friends, starting Monday, will be just what I need to perk back up. I've been told repeatedly that everyone has missed my smiling face, but I have missed the faces that make mine happy. I'm a people person. I'm energized by those around me. And when I feel like giving up, it's my family and friends who make me want to keep going. Although my body can't always take my busy schedule, my mind and soul need to be occupied by all the good around me. I live for the good.

So although it appears that I have fallen off the face of the earth, don't worry - I will return soon. I will return with my bossy nature, my overly scheduled life, my color coded calendar, my long rants about my day, my drama queen attitude, my annoying willingness to plan not only my activities, but yours as well, and my need to organize the planet. But just let me be for a few days. Let me reacclimate to my life. Let me enjoy being a little too organized, a little too planned, a little too bossy, and a little too social. Because I have sure missed it. 


Saturday, November 1, 2014

Just be still.

As I lay bedridden for the next two days, I am left with few options of entertainment:

1.) Texting friends as a desperate attempt to hear of what is going on in the real world. Updates on sporting events, what they did last night, even what they had for lunch. Anything is interesting, really.

2.) Dictate homework to someone or write papers on my phone. But that requires thinking in Spanish or economics terminology. My head hurts too much for that.

3.) Convincing dad to duct tape my TV to the ceiling so I can watch Netflix on something larger than an iPad mini. Right now, lying flat is the option that produces the smallest amount of pain. This means I can't see my TV, and can only see the iPad with my head in an awkward position.

4.) Holding my cat hostage in my room so I have some company. I could use duct tape on her too, or just hold her really tight, but either option would leave me with cat scratches on every inch of uncovered skin, including my face. I like my face.

5.) Blog (on my phone, held above my face) about my interesting Halloween night that landed me in the ER. No, it included no crazy parties, drunken injuries, or stupid decisions. It was probably one of the lamer ways to end up in the ER.

Wednesday night after church, my sister and I went shopping for Halloween party supplies and went to her house to decorate and make costumes for our party with the church college group next night. I started getting a headache sometime while making my (awesome) Wilson the volleyball costume. By the time I was driving home, turning my head to check my blind spot made me feel like my head had a knife through it. 

I have a bed time routine: pajamas, wash face, brush teeth, take meds, call boyfriend, watch TV, gradually fall asleep, wake up to turn TV off, actually fall asleep. When I got home, I barely took my makeup off, knocked back my meds, and crawled into bed, careful not to toss and turn and move my throbbing head. This was the worst headache of my life. My sister gets migraines fairly often, but I wasn't sure this was one based on what I know hers are like. She has vision changes, dizziness, and can't even move from the pain. Mine didn't seem that bad, but I guess they can be different for everyone.

Thursday morning, my wake up call came at 8:30 am for my 9:30 am class. I barely rolled over and it felt as though my brain did somersaults before slamming into the side of my head. Ouch. I emailed my professor to say I would be missing class and went back to sleep.

When I woke up again, I felt sore. Like my brain had lifted weights and done a workout while I slept. I carefully got up, got ready, and went to my second class, third class, work, and the Halloween party, taking Tylenol a few times throughout the day. I seemed fine, but exhausted at the end of the night.

Typical Friday: Spanish, Economics, Work, go home. I was volunteering at a local assisted living facility that night with my church for their Halloween party. I had a great time, dressing the residents in costumes, helping them pass out candy to the trick or treaters, and helping them back to their rooms. I love visiting there; I feel that everyone these is about my pace. And for once, I can be the fastest, and maybe even healthiest, in the room.

Towards the end of the event, my migraine like headache was coming back. I figured it was because I was tired and hadn't eaten since lunch, now almost eight hours ago. Mom and I quickly left when it was over, got some food, and went home to watch Grey's Anatomy while we ate. After the show ended, I stumbled upstairs to bed, after taking 1,000 mg of Tylenol. I know, that was too much, but it's not like it was helping.

After only a few minutes in bed, I called mom into my room, crying. Light and sound hurt, I felt nauseated, and my head was throbbing so much that it was like I could hear my head hurting. After some discussion, we decided to head to the ER. At 11pm. On Halloween. And that is where the real "fun" began.

We got to the ER and signed in around 11:45. As we pulled up, I saw a man in a banana suit, happily bouncing in with a group of about 6-8 other people. Once inside, half a dozen policemen, about 25 people, and several in costume, filled the waiting room. One, slightly drunk, man was upset that the ER wouldn't immediately put his shoulder back into place and left for another ER. Mom and I checked in and sat down. I put my head on her shoulder and she tried to cover my eyes from the light.

After only a few peaceful moments, a very drunk girl dressed as what appeared to be a genie, came out of triage crying. "I just want someone to care and take care of meeeee," she loudly whined. Her friends tried to hold in laughter as they tried to tend to her, while apologizing to the lady next to them. They told her that genie had fallen down the stairs, busting her chin, and needed stitches. The ER was so full, they couldn't do her stitches right then.

She continued to cry and apologize about how she had ruined her friends' Halloween. After a string of profanities, she announced she was going to vomit. At some point during these ten minutes, I told mom I wasn't above hitting a drunk girl. I get grumpy when I'm in the ER, with a throbbing head. Mom began looking for another place to sit and found one next to farmer John, a man who wanted to tell us about every family member he has who gets migraines and what they do to help them. Clearly, he didn't understand that migraines mean I don't want people to loudly talk to me or about me. As I contemplated whether or not to return to the other section to sit by the intoxicated genie, my name was called and I went to triage.

My vitals were taken, and because of my medical history, I was immediately taken back to a room. After twenty minutes or so, a resident doctor came to discuss what we should do. He expressed his concern for brain hemorhaging since the pain was sudden and I had no history of migraines. Woo.

After what seemed like forever, a very nice nurse Ashley came in to start an IV. She returned another forever later with orders to give me a migraine cocktail. The only cocktail I've ever had, but not a drinkable one. No, it consisted of three drugs being pushed through the IV, and another as a shot in the stomach. As the drugs entered my body, I felt a funny, burning sensation in my chest. I felt dizzy, and tried to hold back tears. I was sure an autonomic crisis would hit, and I would soon feel like I was dying. It finally passed, and I fell asleep.

Later, I was awoken by a lady confirming information and taking our copay, and finally someone to take me to get a CT scan. I was so groggy, I fell asleep during the five minute scan, but that probably helped calm my nerves.

The rest of the night was a blur of doctors waking me to talk about what would happen if they saw a bleed or didn't, and asking how I was feeling. Finally, we found out the CT scan showed nothing, but the only was to confirm there was no bleed was to have a spinal tap. I could feel my body begin to panic from the inside out. I don't mind most medical tests, but this was one I did not want. After much persuasion, I finally agreed.

The nurse gave me morphine, and then the resident and his attending came in for the spinal tap. I tried to pretend I was a patient on Grey's anatomy, but sadly Dr. McDreamy was not the one about to administer my spinal tap. I climbed into the awkward spinal tap position and rested my head on mom's shoulder. She quietly talked to me, trying to calm me, and telling me to be nice to the poor doctors. She told me the process was similar to an epidural, but I reminded her she got two babies out of that. What was I getting? I think I talked her into a new pair of shoes or a purse.

I felt the numbing needle on my spine and the doctor rubbing the medicine around. He kept adding more until I couldn't feel the needle. I'm not one to mind needles. I even like to watch the blood flow through the tube when I get blood drawn. But the thought of a four inch needle penetrating my spinal cord, possibly centimeters away from paralyzing me, wasn't a fun thought.

The needle entered slowly; I felt no sharpness, but only a type of pressure I can't explain. It almost felt as though my bad was locking up around the needle, as if my body knew that foreign object should not be in my back and was trying to force it out. They got it in the right spot fairly quickly and began letting the liquid drip out. One, two, three, four tubes later, they finished and pulled the needle out. My head immediately felt immense pain, and my back felt..well, like a four inch needle just came out of it.

After the spinal tap, I played around my phone, checking my email. The verse of the day from KLove included, "Be courageous. Be strong." God knew what I needed.

I slept until the doctor came back, telling me the spinal tap was normal. So no brain surgery, that's good. But I still feel like I had a needle in my back for nothing. I didn't even get to be on a medical TV show, but mom assured me, I would be the patient of the night the show was about. The doctor wrote a prescription for the same medication they injected in my stomach earlier, but in pill form, and said I should follow up with neurology for complex migraines. I was released around 7:45, 8 hours after we first got to the ER. It was a long night.

I don't know how I got lucky enough to receive so many medical conditions. It's as though when Jesus was handing out issues, he forgot he already gave me one, and then gave me enough for a dozen people. I may never know why I have these issues or why new ones keep developing, but I have faith my God knows. He knows why and He knows how this fits into his marvelous plan.

So as I lie here, unable to get out of bed until at least Monday, unable to even take a shower because I can't stand, unable to do much of anything, I try to stay positive. Because I have faith, because I am His, and because despite the chaos my body feels, there is something almost peaceful about feeling helpless. Because when I can't do anything about the situation, I HAVE to trust in Him.

"The Lord will fight for you, you need only to be still."
-Exodus 14:14

And so I will.