The Longest Night of My Life
I am still awake, yep, at quarter to four in the morning. Part of that is due to another issue (which I will talk about in another post), but, the other part of that is due to a weird anniversary. The night of the 18th/morning of the 19th was the longest night of my life two years ago.
I don't know how many people know, but two years I got very sick. I ended up being hospitalized for just over three weeks, including Christmas and New Year's.
I had attended my first Chicago TARDIS, and was finishing up a semester of classes, along with teching a Christmas show for ARFTCo, and working at Starbucks. The Monday after opening week I didn't feel good and my leg was in pain. Jess was a sweetheart and wanted me to call the doctor when I left work. I had even spent the Sunday before at Chicago_girl7's condo with knitchick1979 and johnnyvenom who thought I was getting sick.
I struggled. the doctor put me on antibiotics. I had to call off work (still finding people to cover my shifts), and missed class. I thought it was something that had to do with a broken toe on that foot at the beginning of the semester. I saw knitchick1979 the week before, when the antibiotics should have been working. Even she was "you look worse."
I barely made it around campus the last day of the semester, using Dad's cane and barely carrying anything in my backpack. I was trying to make arrangements in case I missed the finals, get an incomplete. Good thing I did. My doctor didn't know why my leg was blowing up and I could barely move. I had gone in for an x-ray and ultrasound, but no breaks, no blood clots, just a LOT of pain, and no prescription painkillers.
I also could barely keep any food down. My blood sugar was all over the place. I was lucky if I kept soup if a yogurt parfait down most of the night. I couldn't concentrate to read. I watched the Torchwood zombie arc on repeat because there was four episodes on that DVD and Dad could pop it in the player before he left for work.
Coming to Friday the 18th, my friends and aunt were worried, but I had refused to go to the hospital because I was seeing the doctor. He had me scheduled with an orthopedic specialist for later in December. If it wasn't for my friends and text messages I would have gone insane.
The night of the 18th I could barely eat a couple spoonfuls of soup before throwing them up. My friends were so insistent on me getting help, but I didn't know how knitchick1979 could have gotten me to her car - my family us used to medical movement. Dad had to go to work. He left me with fresh water in a bottle, grandma's afghan, and left the radio on to the station playing Christmas music. I immediately vomited bile - I was used to the bike by this point, that's all I was able to throw up for days.
I knew it was bad. I told myself if I threw up one more time during the night, I would go to the emergency room the next day. I threw up stomach stuff two more times. I was in pain. I kept texting my friends like pockychopstix and my aunt all through the night. I could barely breathe, but they were somehow up and at least one would answer me, no matter what time.
I couldn't sleep. I woke up literally every 5-10 minutes in pain. All the Christmas songs the radio played were ones from my past that made me think of Mom, if Grandma, Grandpa, etc. I called Dad at work and told him no matter what his replacement better be there. I knew as soon as Dad was home we had to go to the hospital.
Time seemed to stop that night. It felt like I was living in the event horizon of a black hole, yet aware of every second. I still don't know how I made it through. The next morning I was barely able to get dressed. My foot was so blown up I wore sandals in the snow.
Made it to the emergency room at Swedish Covenant Hospital. They were my angels. They even tried to look after my father when they found out he came from work and had to go in that night. Eventually things got sorted. I had an infection in my body that two weeks later they finally figured out what it started as - Group B Strep - only about 8,000 people get Group B.
The night of the 19th I had trouble sleeping in the hospital, but the nurses were awesome. Natalie was the nurse's aide who even let me rant through my fears. Two years later I remember the names of my nurses and aides - if you know an awesome nurse, give them a hug today.
I still don't know how I survived that night, especially considering when they checked me into the hospital they had infectious diseases on hand, I was beyond severe dehydration, they were watching me for kidney failure, a temperature of almost 104, and I could barely move. That night proved even longer than the night we lost Mom.
All I know is, despite our arguments and other stuff, I am thankful for my family and friends. And for the awesome staff at "that Swedish place."
Love you all.