Faithfully Fighting

And We All Fall Down

lynnwv | July 05, 2008 04:26

Well, I’ve been on an adventure, of sorts.  After my last entry I started to loose energy.  Although the pain from the diverticulitus got better I was exhausted and my temperature started to rise.  I thought it was possibly the antibiotics they had put me on.  Through last weekend the couch and my bed became my best friends.  By Monday afternoon, and a temperature of 100.7, I knew I had to call the oncology department.

 

The Physician Assistant (PA) asked me to come to the hospital, room 595.  She had talked to my doctor and because of the infection they wanted to check everything out.  She wooed me with the possibility that I would just stay overnight.  So my sweet Pete came and got me and we walked right into room 595.  It wasn’t a bad room, I had a view of the doctor’s parking lot and the trees and mountains, but it was a hospital room.  I knew, eventually, there was a possibility I would have to stay on the oncology wing of the hospital, but it seemed really soon to me.  The world slows to a creep in the hospital.

 

When the PA came in she did an examination.  I explained that my stomach didn’t even hurt and was only a little tender (I couldn’t understand what was making me feel so sick).  I mentioned that my left breast was tender, swollen and red again, but that had been happening after chemo.  She didn’t like the look of it.  I had mentioned to my doctor at my last visit that the area did some crazy things after chemo, turning red, getting swollen and then not going down until right before my next treatment.  He had thought it was just the chemo.  It wasn’t really red, just kind of rosy.  The PA thought it would be a good idea to get an ultrasound of both sides, just to check them.  They were also going to put me on IV antibiotics, because apparently the oral ones weren’t killing whatever was making my fever go up and the weakness.  My doctor came by for an ultra second and agreed with everything the PA wanted.

 

It was a little while later the nurse came in to start the vancomyicin antibiotic through the IV along with some fluids.  This is the same antibiotic I had when I had the cellulites the first time around and had to have IV therapy for 14 days.  I felt strongly that this was a bad sign.  The last time I had had it they had pumped it in at a fast rate and I got something called “red face syndrome”.  After that first dose I was getting Benedryl IV before every dose.  I’m sure most of you are familiar with Benedryl.  It may even make you a little sleepy or foggy headed when you take it.  Through an IV at 50 ml it makes me down right loopy.  I was dreading this, but they did it with the first dose and just as I was getting loopy headed they came to take me down for the ultra sound.  9:00 pm at night they are wheeling me through the hallways and all I want to do is lay down.

 

The ultra sound seemed to go well.  The technician even asked me if I’d been on antibiotics for a while.  It kind of made me feel like they didn’t see anything.  She took a really long time on the right side and less time on the left (the problem one).  Then back to the room.  Have any of you every noticed that, even though everyone is extremely kind and friendly, you feel like a lab rat in the hospital. 

 

After a restless night and some different antibiotics (are we keeping track because now I have been on 5 different antibiotics over the last 3 weeks) I am more exhausted than ever.  I’m an early riser, and apparently not a trouble maker, because I’m up and washed and dressed by the time I see a nurse or nurse assistant in the morning.  As my breakfast is delivered my doctor comes in.  As he is washing his hands at the sink he says, “Did we know that your left implant had ruptured?”  Then he turns to watch my face.  He knows we didn’t know that.  He, once again, is trying to ease me into something he knows is going to make me crazy.  “No, no we didn’t” I answer.  He’s in a hurry again, but explains that he’s called the plastic surgeon and we’ll have to see what he wants to do.  He says that I probably have another infection from the rupture.  As he’s walking out the door I’m still asking him questions the last one was will I be able to go home today (after all the PA had suggested it when she called me to come in).  He laughed his deep not funny sounding laugh and just says “Uh, No” as he heads out the door.  I’m trapped, tethered to a clear plastic tube dripping things into me.  The thought occurs to me that I could probably take it out of my chest, I’ve seen them do it dozens of times, but the wrath of my doctor and loved ones would come down on me so fast, plus this is probably the best for me.  It is just so out of control, well, out of my control (that’s the hardest for me). 

 

When the nurse comes in to hang my morning vancomyisin IV she said the doctor wants to try it without the Benedryl.  I’m thrilled and terrified.  If it goes in without the red face showing up then I don’t have that dopy feeling all the time, but if it doesn’t everyone (including me) gets exited about the red face.  I’m not sure what made him think to do that, I hadn’t said anything about hating the Benedryl (although I did).  It makes me feel like he’s looking out for me, something I hadn’t really felt lately.  Anyway, three hours later, I’ve had the medicine with no reaction, so from here on out no Benedryl, yeah.

 

By the next day I’m feeling very well.  In walks my favorite Nurse Practitioner (NP).  He sits on the couch and just visits with me for about 30 minutes.  I feel like a human being and when we are done he starts working with the patient advocate to get me set up for home health care and get me home.  Those two magnificent people worked fervently for hours to get me set up to go home.  I owe them.  They could have kept me until Monday, it would have been easier, and then just had me come back for IV therapy, but no they squeezed and pinched and wrote orders and made phone calls so I could go home.  It took me all day to get out of that hospital (I had to take more IVs before I could leave) but at 8:00 Weds night I was rolling out of there.

 

I’ve had to go to the hospital for IVs Thurs and Friday (7/4).  Home health care is scheduled to come today to show me how to do this from home for the next 9 days.  I got my delivery of medicine and supplies yesterday afternoon about 5:00 pm from some place 2 hours away.  I will admit I’m a little nervous about doing this stuff from home, but I’m also very happy to be home and not running to the hospital every day.  They should be here at 10:00 this morning.

 

I almost forgot to tell you about the implant.  The plastic surgeon came into the hospital and he was his usual cheerful self, but after the exam doubted the implant had ruptured, until he looked at the ultra sound.  He said fixing it is no big deal.  Really??  The ideal plan is to get this infection cleared up then have a chemo treatment on 7/17 (it had been scheduled for last Thurs but they won’t do it while I have an infection).  After that I’ll see the plastic surgeon to schedule surgery to get the implant taken out or possibly replaced (I haven’t decided).  I’m trying not to think about another surgery, that’s just a whole different blog.

 

I’m sorry this is so long.  There was just a lot of information.  I didn’t even talk about the incredible nurses on the oncology floor of the hospital or the support I’ve been getting from friends and family.  I am feeling like a blessed person.  Maybe one in a dark whole, but still very blessed.  I’ll write again soon about the adventures of home health care I’m sure.

 

Blessings,

Lynn

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