Well, no tribbles but they sound cuter than tribulations – or “I spent my Monday in the ER.” I’m attempting to channel Cathy over at Life on the Muskoka River with this post, so be forewarned.
I’d just had breakfast when, in the space of five minutes, I went from feeling fine to nauseous to tingly to my lungs forgetting how to breathe in and out. Some of you know I have fibromyalgia. Yep, I was having a major flare.
Since I thought I was dying, I let the husband unit call the paramedics. Good thing he was home. My blood pressure was only 80/40 something and not getting any better as I’m gulping oxygen through the mask, so they transport me.
Husband unit had to take down the gate between the living room and family room to let the gurney pass through and strap down my smelly body. Had I showered yet? No. Brushed my teeth? No. Still in my pjs? Yes.
The gate protects the litter box from the dogs, you know. Did he put it back up? No. On the bright side, there was nothing left to clean out of the box later on…
So anyway, I’m transported with light and siren, since they can’t get my blood pressure back up. I’m freezing to death (in 82 degree weather) and they can’t find my veins.
Neither could the ER. I have scores of needle tracks in my hands, wrists, up my arms. Meanwhile, my teeth are chattering. They tell me my veins are collapsing because I’m holding them tense. Hello? Freezing!
Someone finally gets me a blanket, then – joy of joys! – a second one. Within two minutes I’ve thrown up on my beautiful blankets and they’re whisked away. Sob.
I have more leads snaking from my body at this point then a porcupine has quills, so tangled I can’t move an inch. Like all of my hospital experiences, I actually feel worse as time goes on – migraine – and beg to go home to die. My blood pressure keeps wobbling and they want to keep me. No!
I finally get discharged, even though my blood pressure is only 90/57, because the doctor was afraid I’d gnaw on his arm if he came any closer. Have I mentioned I hate hospitals?
So I’m released with a plethora of prescriptions after they’ve ruled out pneumonia, stroke, blood clot, heart. He decides I have bronchitis (no, I’m having a flare!) and gives me antibiotics – why? Steroids – why, again? A nifty inhaler with, you guessed it – steroids. Percocet – which made my headache worse, and anti-nausea meds.
They rip off all the leads for extra torture, including the ones on my legs. The legs I haven’t shaved for two weeks. Husband unit draws me a bath in the garden tub built for a gnome and heads off to the pharmacy.
The anti-nausea drug isn’t covered by our insurance and costs $90. Really? I’d rather puke.
I could go on but the pain on your faces makes me stop. Suffice it to say, I might not be around much for a few days or longer, but I’m at home, so it’s good enough.
Laura, I am so sorry! I’m not sure what part of your experience sounds worse, but I’m glad you’re home and hope you’re feeling better.
Surprisingly, after a bad night I’m feeling much better today, Alex. Which means I’ll have to be on guard against overdoing it.
Oh Laura .. that sounds horrid – to put it mildly. Hope you improve .. and as you yourself say – take it easy .. all the best Hilary
Thanks, Hilary! I’m trying to relax…which isn’t easy…
Time for some “Laura time”.
Relaxing isn’t difficult. Trying to relax is.
I’m with alex, not knowing which part of the ordeal felt worse – not, I suspect, that you’re particularly interested in comparative analysis right about now.
Be well, Laura. “If wishes were…” etc.
Thanks, Kevin! I’m trying on the trying part…but it’s very trying…?
I’m supposed to have fibro, but I’ve never gone through what you have. Wow. Hope this fades and you feel better soon.
Hi Janet! Fibro is such a strange condition. It manifests in so many ways. I’ve only had a handful of flares and never one like this, but each one has struck in a different area. Sigh.
That sounds horrible. I hope you feel better soon. It really put me there, and I’ve gone through similar situations with my ill mother. My heart and thoughts are with you in this hard time.
Thank you so much for your concern, Michael. I appreciate your heart and thoughts.
Love you, Mom! (as for taking it easy…*snort* Dad’s gonna have to chain you to a chair without your yellow pads of doom, methinks)
Yeah, yeah, Yvonne.
I love you too!
“…yellow pads of doom…”
*snort* – that explains so, so much!
Doesn’t it though?
Laura, your experience yesterday sounds horrifying. I’m with you as far as hospitals are concerned: get me out of here! But it’s very good to hear you’re feeling much better today. And I hope you feel even better tomorrow.
Thanks Ron. I’m weak and unmotivated, but I suppose that’s good.
Hospitals make me feel trapped, like I’ll never escape!
Damn those tribbles!
Glad you escaped the hospital and made it back home. Now RELAX and REST and BREATHE [see what I did there?]
Tribbles are such troublemakers, Tim! I will be following your advice, which you emphasized with the double “and” but I can never remember the proper term for because those ana and oneo words are just too weird to remember.
I’m so sorry, Laura! I just can’t imagine you sick….not YOU! Do you think you may have upset one of your “unworldly” characters from one of your fabulous books. Which one have you P/O lately?
Please , please take care of yourself. You’re body is obviously telling you it’s time to lay low, breathe deep and regroup. If there is anything I can do through cyber space, please let me know.
<3 U friend!
Thank you, Cindy! You’re so sweet. I’ve P/Od a lot of them lately. Jez is out checking for me.
For now, I’ll lay low and breathe deep. Hugs to you!
Oh my..I’m so sorry….I’m so glad you are out of the hospital now…I am sending good vibes so it doesn’t come back…
Thanks, Savannah. I’ll take all the good vibes I can get.
Oh wow, Laura, I hope you’re feeling better soon. I wasn’t aware that you had fibromyalgia, but I had no idea that someone with it could experience what you went through. Scary!
Take care!
Thanks, Pam. I didn’t know it could affect me that way, either. It’s a weird disease.
Laura,
I’m so sorry I wasn’t visiting your blog sooner. How are you? I hope you are feeling much better. I can’t imagine how scary it was for you and your husband. Please take it easy and let me know if there is anything I can do. *hugs*
Thanks, Ciara. Keep sending hugs. They’re the best medicine.
Just checking in on you, again. I’ll keep you in my thoughts and prayers. Let me know how you’re doing.
*hugs, hugs* and more *hugs*
I love all the hugs, Ciara.
Thanks for keeping me in your thoughts. I seem more awake today, so that’s good but it’s been stressful for everyone.
Oh, no! I just saw this. I hope you are starting to feel better. *hugs*
Hi Buffy. Thanks for the hug.
I’m pretty sapped but doing better.
Morning Laura, hoping you are feeling better. Just wanted to send you some {{{Hugs}}}.
No, Jez, I haven’t forgot about you. Here’s some for you, too {{{Hug}}}. Take care of our girlfriend.:-)
Aww, Jez and I thank you, Cindy! She’s keeping me entertained in between my frequent naps. Hugs back to you from us!
LAURA ENO. My god woman, now I’m all freaking worried about you. I’m sorry… I just saw this (because I am a terrible, terrible friend) and I am so sorry you had such a horrible experience. Still, ok, I hate to admit this, I was chuckling through my worries… there you are all worried about your “stinky body” and your unshaven legs and the dogs eating the kitty litter while you’re being rushed out of your house on a guerney! (Were the ambulance attendants cute???)
I sincerely hope you’re feeling better. The world would be a terrible place without you SO LOOK AFTER YOURSELF. DON’T WORK SO DAMNED HARD and do whatever it is you have to do to kick fibroymyalgia squarely in its asinine ass.
Hugs and love. (Again, I can’t believe I’m so late getting here. I’m SUCH an ass.) oxoxo
I knew you would relate to my worries, Cathy.
And don’t be silly…you’re a wonderful friend!
I don’t know if they were cute, as I was passed out for most of the ride. The ER nurse bothered me a little. She looked like a high school cheerleader. And the ER doctor asked dumb questions like, “Have you used hair dye recently?” Hello? Do you not see the TWO inches of brown roots struggling to obliterate the old red dye that I insanely thought would look good, but didn’t? That would be a NO, NOT recently.
Thanks for stopping by and making me smile.
How utterly horrible. Glad you’re home and doing better.
In my experience, ER doctors are often clueless, though less so than ambulance drivers. If they haven’t run across something before, they just start asking random questions, hoping something will sound right.
Take care of yourself.
Very apt description, Erin.
I think he was also in the “fibromyalgia is all in your head” camp as well, so desperate to find something to explain my experience.
I’m resting – grumbling, but resting. Thanks for stopping by!
Husband unit … sonds like we are too easily replaceable. Like a spark plug or a battery.
More like a lego, Stephen. If you pull that unit out, the whole building collapses.
Plus, it’s shorter than HWWNBNOTI (or something like that. I think that’s Tart’s designation?)
Jeez, Laura! I hope you’re feeling better. That was quite a morning. I have a husband unit, too. They come in handy now and then.
Husband units are cool to have, Mary.
I’m feeling better but tired, trying to keep the anxiety level down.