And From Out of the Ashes...
A Rachel appeared...not entirely healthy but not dying anymore.
As it were, last week was a blur to me. I remember little bits and pieces of it, followed with lots of pain, weakness and discomfort. My birthday was probably the day I remember the best...and even the majority of that was spent sleeping.
So for those who haven't heard yet and/or I forgot to tell, I've been in the hospital since Saturday. When we got there my blood pressure was 70/50 which knocked the nurses socks off and got me in a room within five-ten minutes. I hadn't kept food down in nearly a week at that point, hanging precariously on the cliff of life versus death and have been getting my ass pumped back up since then. The three hours in the Emergency at the hospital was a weak attempt at getting me to stop throwing up (failing five different times with five different medications) until we finally found the G.I. cocktail. It's this nifty little concoction of Lidocaine, Maalox and Donna--something, that makes your entire digestive tract to your stomach go completely numb. Ahhh, sweet relief. I passed smooth out after that sucker. I had to change my clothes and then they decided to admit me until we could figure out what was causing the problems.
So, I went into room #413, laid down on the soft, cushy bed as opposed to the hard, flat, very uncomfortable emergency room bed and I fell right to sleep. (My father left since he had to work the next day.)
I woke up at six a.m. with someone wheeling in breakfast. I sat there and stared at it and tried to brave a few of them. I ate one bite of a waffle, a bite of an apple and then some orange juice. All of them sent me reeling into pain and so I shoved the tray aside and tried to sleep again instead. I slept until the doctors came in one by one, giving me their opinions, loading me up with meds and more IVs and this and that. I felt like a science experiment in high school...only much more medicated and without ANY painkillers anymore, not to mention feeling like I hadn't bathed in days (I honestly couldn't remember at that point if I had bathed). I slept some more, watched some television. Tried to make some phone calls and passed out until my grandparents showed up. (My grandfather spent his time trying to convince me that I was dying of West Nile, how polite.) Then my dad and Mary showed up and then Kortnee and Jason showed up. All my time with all of them was interesting and good conversation. In between visits, I tried to eat something solid (only succeeding with graham crackers, Popsicles, sweet rolls and jell-o. When Kortnee and Jason left, I laid my head back down and tried to rest some more.
Five thirty on Sunday morning, I woke up with my stomach convulsing and reached instinctively for the little blue barf bag. Not having anything to come up it was just spit and bile and it hurt so bad I started screaming in between. My favorite nurse came in and shot my IV full of this nausea medicine that we were going to try and within a few minutes, I was laying back down, resting. They gave me a "Green Lizard" (that crap I told you about before) and fell asleep again until my obstetrician showed up at about nine. (Jerk-off.) He wanted to send me home that day saying that there was no particular reason that I was in the hospital, the nurse who was standing there gave him a strange look and responded with, "Really? Did you LOOK at the chart when you came in today?" He was still convinced that I needed to be out that very day. Guess what? (I stayed another day and a half.) My father was there when they brought me my lunch...spaghetti. We both looked at it and laughed. Yeah, right, I was not nearly that brave. The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. Chris came and said "hello" with a stuffed tiger, which I immediately dubbed "Roy". We laughed then I coughed and hacked and he left. Good times.
Monday, Sadie came and visited me. I managed to keep some things down from breakfast, lunch and dinner although it still hurts to swallow deep in my chest. They did an Albuterol treatment before I went to bed and I slept soundly. This morning, I got discharged at about 11:00 in the morning. (I slept until then.)
I do not miss peeing into this stupid little toilet hat thing.
I do not miss trying to take a shower with an IV attached and a bag taped over my arm.
I do not miss that highly medicated feeling I had the majority of the weekend.
I will not miss getting up at the asscrack of dawn for vitals, baby monitoring and other random bullshit. (Breakfast at six a.m. Really?)
And I do NOT miss the crappy cable channels that had nothing on.
I am gonna miss my favorite nurse. She was my source of entertainment for the week. I plan on sending her a thank-you card when I get up and around and capable of driving on my own.
But for now, I'm taking it easy. I have no intentions of going anywhere and doing anything until I can eat solid foods without it hurting. Which may take a while. It's not that I don't WANT to play in the game and that I don't WANT to do these study groups, I desperately do but I am afraid that another bout like that in the hospital may kill me. (This one almost did.)
So, thanks guys...sorry for those I didn't get ahold of and sorry for those whose birthdays I missed. We'll make up for it soon.
*mwah*
Teh Rach is back.
As it were, last week was a blur to me. I remember little bits and pieces of it, followed with lots of pain, weakness and discomfort. My birthday was probably the day I remember the best...and even the majority of that was spent sleeping.
So for those who haven't heard yet and/or I forgot to tell, I've been in the hospital since Saturday. When we got there my blood pressure was 70/50 which knocked the nurses socks off and got me in a room within five-ten minutes. I hadn't kept food down in nearly a week at that point, hanging precariously on the cliff of life versus death and have been getting my ass pumped back up since then. The three hours in the Emergency at the hospital was a weak attempt at getting me to stop throwing up (failing five different times with five different medications) until we finally found the G.I. cocktail. It's this nifty little concoction of Lidocaine, Maalox and Donna--something, that makes your entire digestive tract to your stomach go completely numb. Ahhh, sweet relief. I passed smooth out after that sucker. I had to change my clothes and then they decided to admit me until we could figure out what was causing the problems.
So, I went into room #413, laid down on the soft, cushy bed as opposed to the hard, flat, very uncomfortable emergency room bed and I fell right to sleep. (My father left since he had to work the next day.)
I woke up at six a.m. with someone wheeling in breakfast. I sat there and stared at it and tried to brave a few of them. I ate one bite of a waffle, a bite of an apple and then some orange juice. All of them sent me reeling into pain and so I shoved the tray aside and tried to sleep again instead. I slept until the doctors came in one by one, giving me their opinions, loading me up with meds and more IVs and this and that. I felt like a science experiment in high school...only much more medicated and without ANY painkillers anymore, not to mention feeling like I hadn't bathed in days (I honestly couldn't remember at that point if I had bathed). I slept some more, watched some television. Tried to make some phone calls and passed out until my grandparents showed up. (My grandfather spent his time trying to convince me that I was dying of West Nile, how polite.) Then my dad and Mary showed up and then Kortnee and Jason showed up. All my time with all of them was interesting and good conversation. In between visits, I tried to eat something solid (only succeeding with graham crackers, Popsicles, sweet rolls and jell-o. When Kortnee and Jason left, I laid my head back down and tried to rest some more.
Five thirty on Sunday morning, I woke up with my stomach convulsing and reached instinctively for the little blue barf bag. Not having anything to come up it was just spit and bile and it hurt so bad I started screaming in between. My favorite nurse came in and shot my IV full of this nausea medicine that we were going to try and within a few minutes, I was laying back down, resting. They gave me a "Green Lizard" (that crap I told you about before) and fell asleep again until my obstetrician showed up at about nine. (Jerk-off.) He wanted to send me home that day saying that there was no particular reason that I was in the hospital, the nurse who was standing there gave him a strange look and responded with, "Really? Did you LOOK at the chart when you came in today?" He was still convinced that I needed to be out that very day. Guess what? (I stayed another day and a half.) My father was there when they brought me my lunch...spaghetti. We both looked at it and laughed. Yeah, right, I was not nearly that brave. The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. Chris came and said "hello" with a stuffed tiger, which I immediately dubbed "Roy". We laughed then I coughed and hacked and he left. Good times.
Monday, Sadie came and visited me. I managed to keep some things down from breakfast, lunch and dinner although it still hurts to swallow deep in my chest. They did an Albuterol treatment before I went to bed and I slept soundly. This morning, I got discharged at about 11:00 in the morning. (I slept until then.)
I do not miss peeing into this stupid little toilet hat thing.
I do not miss trying to take a shower with an IV attached and a bag taped over my arm.
I do not miss that highly medicated feeling I had the majority of the weekend.
I will not miss getting up at the asscrack of dawn for vitals, baby monitoring and other random bullshit. (Breakfast at six a.m. Really?)
And I do NOT miss the crappy cable channels that had nothing on.
I am gonna miss my favorite nurse. She was my source of entertainment for the week. I plan on sending her a thank-you card when I get up and around and capable of driving on my own.
But for now, I'm taking it easy. I have no intentions of going anywhere and doing anything until I can eat solid foods without it hurting. Which may take a while. It's not that I don't WANT to play in the game and that I don't WANT to do these study groups, I desperately do but I am afraid that another bout like that in the hospital may kill me. (This one almost did.)
So, thanks guys...sorry for those I didn't get ahold of and sorry for those whose birthdays I missed. We'll make up for it soon.
*mwah*
Teh Rach is back.