Number of Times Poked

It was a crazy week.  So much so that I don’t really know where to begin.  But I guess the beginning is always the best place.
Last Sunday morning (the 20th) I woke up with the previous night’s headache in full migraine mode and a 100*+ fever.  I tried to go to work only to be immediately sent away.  Thank goodness.  I went back to sleep and spent the day taking pain medications and trying to force my fever down.  I assumed I was just stressed with the next day’s procedure looming.
I woke up Monday morning and the migraine was still there.  I had a bit of an upset stomach but again I was placing all blame on nerves and mild anxiety.  I took the hottest shower I could stand to try to loosen tight muscles in my neck and shoulders to ease my migraine.  The shower was hotter than I could take and had to splash myself with cool water as I could feel myself nearly blacking out as I got out of the shower.
Amy picked me up and we headed off to the hospital.  She kept me sane and as calm as possible.  I informed the nurses I had a migraine but as my fever had surprisingly returned, now pushing 101*+, they became very concerned.  They took blood and immediately hooked me up to an IV of fluid.  When my white blood cell count came back over 30,000, I was informed surgery was cancelled.  (Don’t ask me what your white blood cell count should be but 30,000 is NOT good – that much I was able to gather).
We spent 7 hours in the hospital as I was pumped with more and more fluids, given pain medications and antibiotics.  I was sent home with the instruction to keep an eye on my temp and if it went back up, head immediately to the ER, otherwise, I was to see my primary doctor in the morning.
It was the longest night I can remember.  While my fever stayed reasonable throughout the night, I had the worst pain in my abdomen and spent the whole night sick.  After a 6:30AM crying call to my dad, more sick, I was back in the doctor’s office, hardly able to walk at this point.
They thought it was my appendix and they were preparing pre-op for my arrival as I headed to get a CT scan to confirm.  We spent hours waiting and while it was not my appendix, I was still informed to head directly to the hospital as I was going to be admitted for several days.  There was an infection that took over my entire digestive track that the CT scan detected and according to the 3 doctors watching over me, it was “really scary.”  My parents flew out here and I had friends visiting as I spent Tuesday-Friday on additional antibiotics, non-stop fluids and whatever food from the BRAT (bananas, rice, applesauce, toast) diet I could keep down.


I was finally set free released Friday afternoon and while I’m still not able to work out (next week, fingers crossed), I’ve returned to work and I’m slowly gaining back my energy and strength.  The end is near.
We also took the opportunity to count the number of times I was poked with a needle between Monday and Friday, either to take blood, inject an antibiotic, or set me up with a new IV: 11.  I have bruises and a tally to prove it.


(And I’ll return to my other doctor next week and begin the process of rescheduling my procedure, but at least now we have confirmation from the CT scan that it’s a cyst, not a potential tumor.) 

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