Sick... really.

Well, I thought my next post on here would be something like recapping the Deathly Hallows Part 1 Premiere (OH YEAH!). But life took an unexpected turn, and something else pressingly needs updating on. [WARNING: I'm aware this is really long. I won't be too offended if you skip to the end, I promise.]

I was sick. Like, really. Sick. I went to the ER two nights in a row (last Saturday, the 20th, and then Sunday, the 21st), and was then an inpatient at Vanderbilt from Sunday night to Thursday night.

I'm trying to figure out where to even begin... partially because most of the past week is a huge fuzzy memory.

Well, Friday night, I started feeling potentially a little off, but not enough to be sure I was actually sick... then I woke up Saturday morning and just felt generally queasy and food did not sound appetizing. I finally decided to maybe try a smoothie, because it was the only thing that sounded slightly appetizing. Well, not long after sipping on it, the nausea started getting stronger... But I had a wedding to go to, so I was determined to not be sick. In the car on the way there, things were slowly going down hill... and when we pulled into the parking lot- the first (of many many many) upchucks. At that point, I thought- huh, maybe it will just be this one time, and now I'll be okay. Sat through the wedding ceremony, and wasn't feeling much better, but made it through (Thank the Lord!) and then headed to the reception hall. The smell of the food was immediately not helping, and my spirits were very low (very disappointing, because there were a lot of people there I was a lot more excited to see than I was able to show!) I casually relocated myself to a slightly more removed location when the food became overwhelming, and then promptly threw up beside the couch I was sitting on. Luckily, I at least hit the hardwood floor... And by the second wave, someone had moved a trashcan next to me.

Let's just say it was downhill from there. Left the wedding reception without even getting to see the lovely bride and groom (Tara and Brandon, I so wish I had gotten to share in your wonderful day more!), threw up in the car on the way back (luckily we had a trashbag...), and then began a wave of vomit in the room I was staying in... with no relief from the nausea. Shaphan had come up to stay with me, and miserably watched me be miserable for a couple of hours until I finally realized maybe I needed to go see someone... I remember struggling to look at my watch to count my breaths, and thinking "36 breathes a minute... well that's too many" and thinking about what type of acid imbalances I was throwing my body into...

Shaphan and Rebecca Glenn graciously took me to the Brookwood ER, where, after a fretful wait in the waiting room to be seen by triage, I was promptly escorted back to a room and seen by a doctor. If you want to be seen quickly, try rocking back and forth, whimpering, hyperventilating, and holding onto a bucket for dear life. It worked for me. I was set up with some IV fluids, some phenergan, and some pentobarbital; I was reportedly very soon knocked out, not unexpectedly. A couple hours I was awoken later by the doctor feeling much better. Feeling sure they had helped my kick the bug, I went to bed and slept soundly the rest of the night, and awoke feeling weak, but good.

Insistent on sticking to my original plan, I headed back to Nashville in the late morning. I started out the drive strong, but slowly began to weaken and weary... as a safe guard, I called Anna Bedsole to help my stay awake. Well, the longer we talked and the more I drove, the worse I began to feel. It became clear that I probably needed to stop and call someone to come pick me up. I had made it the majority of the way, and was about 50 miles from Nashville when I pulled over at a gas station off of 65.

Thankfully I have amazing roommates, who came to pick me up, even though they had just finished preparing the Thanksgiving meal we were supposed to be sharing together. About an hour later, they arrived to find me sitting outside my car having just vomited yet again. After securing some plastic bags without holes from inside, we started making the trek back to Nashville. I'm told I was essentially vomiting or dry heaving most of the trip. Here is where my memories begin to blur, so the rest of this detailed report is less reliable...

Upon returning to our house, it was clear I needed to go back to the ER. I apparently only knew how to respond "I don't know" when asked what I wanted to do, but thankfully my roommates knew better, and took me to Vanderbilt. Again, after what I'm sure was a decently short, but fretful wait, I was escorted to triage and then a room. This time the drugs did not have such an nice, immediate calming effect. But I do recall seeing random familiar faces of other nurse residents walking in and around my room...

After fluids, Zofran, Ativan.... and I have no idea what else... I still was not finding relief. My roommates kept a faithful watch at my bedside, though I don't remember actually talking to them much... I do have vague memories of them calling people on my phone to let them know I was back in the ER. After a CT of my brain with no indication of causes, they told me they were going to admit me. I remember thinking "oh my gosh, am I really this sick?" but going with it. A couple of nurse residency friends stopped by to say hello, and I'm sure I sufficiently freaked them out. One reported that I looked like I was ready to jump out of my stretcher, constantly pulling my covers off and on myself, and being generally agitated. No wonder they thought they needed to scan my brain...

Well... I got sent up to a general med floor, in the Round Wing... I've never been there before, and let me tell you, I don't remember much. Monday through Thursday is a very general blur... I know my roommates stopped by Monday morning, and I was attempting to eat Jello... and even had an apparently amusing conversation with Valerie about what color I should eat. But like I said, no real clear memory of this.

At some point I got a CT of my abdomen, again negative. And an endoscopy, which I seem to remember someone getting upset because I had been eating, and I tried to explain I didn't know they were going to do the test, and I'd thrown it all up anyway. I can tell you I don't remember getting there or coming back... but I suppose I must have.

On Tuesday my parents asked if they should come up, to which I replied "okay." They arrived not long after, and I think I even tried on my narnia costume while I was there... I'm surprised I didn't vomit on it, but I guess my mom thought it was worth the risk...

Wednesday... I have no idea what happened wednesday, except my parents came back, I assume, and I seem to remember them asking for my wireless password in my house... Oh, and I called in to work to tell them I (obviously) couldn't come in. I know I talked to my assistant manager because I was calling out on the week of the holiday (there's goes that holiday pay...) but I can't recall what words were exchanged. Looking at my phone records, this is also the day that Heike called from China. Again, who knows what I told her, I only vaguely remember seeing her number calling me, and asking my parents a few days later "Did I talk to Heike while I was in the hospital??"

Thursday, the day most of you hopefully joyously celebrated with family, I still was not better. My parents talked my siblings through baking pie and oyster casserole for family thanksgiving, and they went out to eat while I was sent for an MRI of my brain. I had to go down without my glasses on, so vision memories are definitely blurry, but I actually do remember the ride down and back for this particular trip... and the nice MRI guy talking to me. I took a nice doze while it scanned and whirred around my head for 30+ minutes... I guess maybe it was claustrophobic, but I had my eyes closed... I'd like to think hopefully this means I can tell my patients more accurately what to expect when I take them down, but now thinking back on what I remember, I'm not sure that's really the case. Of course, maybe this is just a sign that my patients surely won't remember half of what's going on anyway... at least the ones getting tons of phenergan and ativan too...

After the MRI turned out negative, the doctors said they had run every test they could think of to try to find some treatable cause to whatever was causing my ailment. They started me on some Reglan, to help move food through my stomach better, since apparently my endoscopy had shown a lot of excess fluid still in my stomach (whether this is because I didn't fast before hand or because of gastroparesis (stomach paralysis) is your best guess as well as mine). Feeling slightly better once the Reglan was started, I was discharged and my parents drove me home (much, to I remember, my insistence that I didn't want to drive that far).

Luckily I was knocked out for most of the drive (lasting effects of some gracious phenergan). Upon returning home though, I found myself to be unable to sleep. I tossed and turned in bed for most of the night, and assumed it must be because I had slept so much the rest of the day, and because I was longingly missing my phenergan and ativan... how they had made time blur so pleasantly! Now time seemed to be inching by... A glance at my watch might show that only a few minutes had passed, and I wondered how on earth I was going to survive.

Friday did not inherit much improvement. I sat and napped miserably on the couch most of the day while my family purchased our christmas tree and decorated. I believe there is a picture that will hopefully never be displayed of me miserably hanging one solitary christmas ornament (at least I chose a lovely Irish Cross. Solid.). My smile is more of a grimace. I remained restless most of the day, tried to sleep early, but was awake again after maybe an hour... I watched A Christmas Story with my family (at least I was able to remain solid to one good family tradition), and threw up some more.

I had been faithfully taking my Reglan all day, trusting it should continue to help. That night, sleep evaded me once more. I took many treks from my bedroom to the computer room, watching 10-15 minutes of a TV show on hulu before trying sleep once more.

Saturday morning I was miserable. When my mom came into my room, I told her how I didn't feel like I was ever going to get better. I was weary, depressed, anxious, restless, and exhausted with being sick. I was no longer nauseous, but my stomach felt bloated and weird. I felt utterly weak, barely having enough energy to talk. I figured a week+ of not actually eating anything substantial was catching up to me. I was feeling so bad again that I thought maybe I needed to go back to a doctor. Well, we called my parents' physician and my brother's girlfriend's dad, also a doctor, to get their opinion. My parents' MD told me I would just still need to tough it out, and that as long as I was still holding fluids down, I would be okay. When I got on the phone to talk to Christina's dad, I felt it was probably a waste of time, as the other doctor had had no helpful advice for me. Praise the Lord I was wrong. When I began describing to him how I felt that morning, and he found out I was on Reglan, he immediately said that those were exact side effects that Reglan can often have. Grabbing my bottle, I found the small print at the bottom, underneath the bigger warning that it may cause drowsiness and dizziness, that you should call your doctor immediately if you began experiencing new or worse feelings of depression, restless, agitation, or confusion. Had anyone at the hospital told me this when they started me on it? NO! I had been faithfully taking it, trusting the good meds to help me get better. And as it turns out, the Reglan is what was keeping me feeling bad.

I didn't take any more doses after that phone call. Miss Sherri lovingly came over with ginger tea (good for the stomach, says the chinese), and a wonderful foot massage. By the afternoon, my spirits were already starting to perk up. I actually had longer conversations with my family. I even slightly joked with people again. I had the energy to sit through an entire movie, and TV shows! By that night, I was playing iMAgiNiff with the family, laughing and joking. Talk about a 180 turn.

Sleep, though still slightly slow coming that night, was lovely and uninterrupted. I think I got a good 8 hours, finally.

This morning I successfully at a banana and made the trek to church. Though after the two hour or so excursion I was feeling ready for a nap, I was stilling feeling loads better. And I loaded up and made the ride home to Nashville with Christina today (how providential she was visiting for Thanksgiving, and that she lives in Franklin!) While this afternoon's attempt at soup proved unsuccessful, this evening second journey has been a success, and I'm munching on another banana as I type, actually starting to feel like I might have an appetite returning!

My energy still wanes very quickly (though sitting typing and reading on my computer is much less exhausting than other things!) but I feel confident in saying I am finally on the road to recovery. I'm still uncertain that I'll be able to manage a 12 hour shift Tuesday night, but I am hoping to make it to Neighborhood Group tomorrow night...

If you've actually read this entire post, I am amazingly impressed. I am aware I probably filled it with much more details than you really cared about... but this has been my life for the past week. And what a week it has been.

Mainly, though, I want to thank all of you who have been praying for me faithfully this past week. It wasn't until today really that I realized how many people have been. It is humbling and such a tremendous blessing to realize what a large support group I have around me. Even though my brief (albeit very real) bought of depression Friday-Saturday had me unconvinced God was actually listening or responding to my prayers (I remember shaking my fists in bed towards the ceiling Friday night/Saturday morning thinking "Please, Lord, Please, Just give me SLEEP!"), God had indeed proven faithful, as always.

Now begins the journey of listening to my body and not rushing myself to recovery. Apparently being sick for a week takes longer than a day to get over...