So it's a funny story, really, when you think about it.
Okay, so it's not funny at all, but I like to find the humor in things, it keeps me sane. Or at least from going homicidal. Anyhow.
So for the last 4 or 5 days, I've lost track now, my husband has been complaining of a headache. Tuesday afternoon I had gone to the grocery store and he texted me and said 'I'm sorry but I have to lay down my head is going to explode and I'm really nauseous'. I said don't be sorry don't worry I'll be home soon. That was around 4. He slept until nine, got up, ate, took a shower, and went back to bed. I made the mistake of joking with him 'do you have meningitis? are you gonna leave me rich?' ha.
He woke me up at about 5:30 the next morning. He was dressed and ready to go to work, but said he couldn't go, he was too nauseous, and asked me to call in for him. Thanks a lot honey. :) Anyhow, I did, and we went back to bed. When he finally got up, his headache was worse. He couldn't move his head in any direction at all. After listening to him moan every time he moved for about an hour I decided to call the dr. I'd been trying to get him to call for days, but you know how men are. Not happening. They said they could see us at 3.
We got to the doc and he was miserable. He was hot, sweaty, nauseous and his head was killing him. She did a once over, and though he had no fever, and still has no fever, she said the symptoms were indicative of meningitis and that if he were her husband she'd drag him to the ER kicking and screaming. Luckily for me, the idea of getting pain meds for his head was enough to make him go willingly. It's just around the corner from the drs office so off we went.
The next hour was a blur to me. A complete blur. We walked in the ER and I handed the lady the papers the dr had given us. She started getting his information. He sat down for all of 30 seconds before the triage nurse called him. Within 3 minutes, perhaps 4, he was triaged and was being taken straight back to a room. That was the first indication that all is not well in our world. The last time we were at the ER we waited for 10 hours. Granted, this is a different hospital, but there were people in the waiting room, and 2 ambulances came in just as we were pulling up. We figured we would be waiting for a while. So. Into the room. Nurse comes in immediately and starts an IV and starts drawing blood. Within 3 minutes there are not one but 2 doctors in the room, door closed. My heart is.. racing. They started talking about meningitis, too and I walked out to call my parents, who were at my house with the kids, to let them know what was going on. When I got back inside they were heading to cat scan. Already. As soon as he was back from that, they were setting up for a lumbar puncture. I walked out to call mom again, and to let some other people know what was going on. When I back in they were settling him in. And we waited a while. Within an hour, maybe two, there was talk of admitting him.
At that point I decided it would be okay for me to leave for a bit and go to worship. That, and Eric said I had to bring him back some food. I thought that was a great sign. When I came back from worship he was still in the ER waiting for a room. But it wasn't 5 minutes after I got there that they were ready to move him. We went upstairs and waited. And waited. A dr finally came in about midnight and gave us some test results and what not. He (the dr) was exhausted, the poor guy, but very accommodating. Eric was happy on morphine and muscle relaxers.
He wanted me to go home but I insisted on staying. Insisted. There was one of those chairs that pulls out to a bed that is the equivalent of a medieval torture device, and I slept there. Yeah. We finally fell asleep about two. At three our friend Paula came in. She's a paramedic and was dropping a patient off at the ER so she came up just to check. I think she just wanted to make sure I wasn't lying to her and downplaying his condition. Once she saw that he wasn't dying she was on her way. Then this morning it seemed like people were coming in every. ten. minutes. I finally gave up on sleep and decided to go for breakfast. But in true friend fashion Paula called and said she was on her way and asked what I wanted for breakfast :)
They took Eric for an MRA of his head this morning while I was waiting on Paula to get here with my food. It's an MRI with contrast dye that they put in the IV so they can see better. I think they were looking for brain bleeds and such. When he got back I decided to go home. I was gross. I'm sure the nurses were thanking me. I took a loooong hot shower and mom convinced me I needed a nap. I layed down on my bed ya'll and it was like heaven. My whole body ached, and laying down in that bed was... wow. It didn't take much for me to fall asleep either, which surprised me a bit. Anyhow I slept for three hours and then got up and packed up my stuff and headed back up to the hospital.
And here is what I consider the funny part. As I was on bloom this afternoon chatting with sweet Sheena, the nurse came in to check his sugar and said 'we're gonna move him to room 312.' This number caught my attention. I thought.. I know that number. Surely not.' Ha. They got him up to move him and he started vomiting, which was my cue to exit stage left. The aide took me to the new room, and sure enough there was good reason for me to know room 312.
Ah room 312. The isolation room. 2 and a half years ago, when Dylan was just a babe, Eric and I were trying to decide where to move. We had come up here to visit Paula, who had been here about 6 months, and see if we liked the area, check out the local church, etc. But about halfway through S.C. I started to get very ill. My stomach hurt like I couldn't explain and I was puking on the side of the road. It was awful. We stopped and got a hotel room at like 3 in the morning, and when the pain eased up we got back on the road. As soon as we pulled in to town the pain flared up again. Paula and Eric were talking and I was like 'okay where is the nearest hospital???' They took me to the Emergency Room, and the sweet, wonderful amazing doctors started my loving relationship with Dilauded. The best pain medication. Ever. They ran some tests and determined it was my gallbladder, gave me some vicodin and sent me on my way, telling me that I could have it taken out once we got back home. LIES. The next night the same pain. They had told me that if I took two vicodin and it didn't help that I should come back. Two vicodin didn't touch the pain. It was like taking tic tacs. Pointless. So I made Eric bring me back. He says to me 'honey they're going to think you're seeking drugs'. I said 'I AM SEEKING DRUGS. LOTS OF THEM.' So they drugged me up again and went ahead and admitted me. Right into room 312. I spent four days in this room, hopped up on Versed and Dilauded. I don't remember much of those days, you know, except about cussing the doctor.. but then that's a whole other story. Maybe I'll tell you some time. You'll get a kick out of.
So, where were we? Oh yeah, my sick husband. That's right. Well, we're sitting here now and he's just managed to get down some ham and bread. He's watching TV and I'm blogging bc I felt like I needed to talk to someone but you losers aren't on bloom. Ahem.
I'm going to head home tonight at about 8 or 8:30 and I can only assume that my mother and S are going to treat me like a child because I've been informed that I look like hell and I'm headed for a brick wall, or something. I don't care as long as there is a hot bath and a home cooked meal involved, we're good. And an ambien. Oh sweet mercy, an Ambien. Sigh. Sorry. Excuse me :) I think we've established that I have drug issues.
So, if you're still reading this and your retinas aren't bleeding, congrats :) I tend to rant and such when I've not slept well.
So.. lets talk status, shall we? Finally! I know, I know but it's my blog and sometimes you gotta show dedication to get the good stuff.
The labs have all come back normal. His blood counts and chemistries were fine. His cat scan last night was clear. There was no bacteria in the smear from the spinal fluid, but we're waiting on the cultures on that, which takes 24 hours, ish. We're also waiting for the MRI results. His neck is still stiff and very sore, though he can move it now, but his headache has eased up to a 5 on the pain scale, at least for now. He is pretty much confined to the bed because every time he moves, he vomits. He is not running a fever, and we're all thoroughly stumped. Including the neurosurgeon. Life is so much fun. But then ya'll this is Eric. He never follows the books. Ever. Maybe it's swine flu. Maybe it's meningitis. I don't know. He's in isolation now, and there is no pull out bed in here for me which is why I'll be headed home. I think my girl could use some lovin on anyhow. She's not handling this too well.
As for me, I'm okay. Emotionally I am numb, I guess. I am finding humor in everything because, lets face it, this is my life. I think probably tonight when I go home and the kids are bed things might sink in a bit, but for now, I'm okay. I think I'm most afraid of being sent home with no answers. We go through that so much with his liver we do not want that to happen now. It's just too much to deal with. It's been a long week. I didn't have time to recover from the weekend and all that happened then before I was dealing with this, so I think maybe they're right about that brick wall.. I don't know. Anyhow. Tonight I'll be in my own bed, and hopefully I'll get some rest. I'm told I'm no good to anyone if I run myself into the ground. Go figure.
Well they just gave him Zophran for nausea and they're coming back with percocet. I'm sure he'll be resting well fairly soon :). I'm off to stalk facebook and bloom for a while. Thank you all so much for everything, for the prayers, the laughs, the love. It means the world to us.
So for now, room 312 it is. But I suppose that's better than room 3511.
I'm a wife. I'm a mom. I'm a photographer. I'm a lover of Jesus. My house is a mess, my kids are dirty, we eat take out more often than not. My life is loud, busy and crazy. And that's okay with me.
This is Eric, the man you've been praying for. He's a paramedic. He quilts in his spare time. No, I couldn't make that up :) He has NASH (a form of liver disease, non-alcoholic) and diabetes, but those things don't define him. He's a man of God, an insanely wonderful husband, and the best daddy in the world.. Just ask these guys..
Our daughter Ali, she's 9. She's fiercely opinionated and strong willed. She's a Daddy's girl, but the umbilical cord hasn't but cut from me, either. She's a gymnast, and proud of it. She spends more time upside down or turning flips than she does walking. She's crazy smart, and absolutely sure of it. She is my insufferable little know it all.
Our son Dylan, 7. We lovingly refer to him as Chubs. Or Chubby. Or fat boy. Ahem. He is all boy, as you can see by his crazy wild energy. He has the highest pain tolerance of any child I have ever met. He plays soccer and does gymnastics, but truly he is a gamer, a nerd. He is an avid reader and loves to climb. Not to be outdone by his sister, he's a drama king, but to him, I'm the best mommy in the world.
I'm here to use my voice. So many people can't. In a world of darkness, I just want to help God's light to shine through. I pray that my words are His, and my love is His, as well. This is my journey through the darkness. To start are the beginning of the story, click here.